


Spirit Thief Aesling - Season 1

by Elfy (elfowlgirl), kappa77, katrani



Series: Spirit Thief Aesling [1]
Category: Thrilling Intent (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Girls, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Illustrated Fic, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 75,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6767281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfowlgirl/pseuds/Elfy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kappa77/pseuds/kappa77, https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrani/pseuds/katrani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kelly Garren lives a boring, ordinary life. Except when she doesn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thieving Intent

**Author's Note:**

> For more art and some commentary, head on over to http://spiritthiefaesling.tumblr.com/

The museum was still and quiet, silence interrupted only briefly by the sound of a pair of boots landing on a high window’s ledge.

A figure looked out, surveying the gallery for late security patrols or possible additions to the alarm system with softly glowing yellow eyes, the only distinguishing feature of the crouched outline against the dark September sky.

She was on a tight schedule tonight. Her ideal speed would be “as fast as possible”, but ending up in prison would take a lot more time out of her day than double-checking for any guards or new security features. A distant part of her mind noted that she’d only done it all a couple times before, and yet she was already falling into a sort of rhythm.

She eyed the security camera sweeping back and forth across the room, its tiny red light blinking a silent warning. Pulling a small stream of energy from the well inside her she summoned her weapon, green sparks skittering across seemingly empty air followed by ripples and what seemed like a clear-edged line of mist, solidify into woven white strands. The silk lash returned to its physical existence coiled in her hand, a comforting weight against her palm.

After flicking the whip once gently to get a feel for it she made a careful strike for the camera, the end of rope wrapping tightly around it. She pulled once firmly to test the grip’s strength and then yanked hard, pulling the device from the ceiling. She released the supernatural effect of the lash and the camera unwound from the woven silk as it fell, landing on the floor with a clatter and skittering across the tile.

She turned around and leaned back through the window, hanging on to the ledge with her knees and letting her body dangle down into the room. Arms held out by her head, she kicked off from the ledge, performing an upside-down flip and landing perfectly on her feet. “That’s still so much fun,” she laughed as a second shadow appeared as a silhouette in the window.

It was small, much smaller than the first figure had been - it hopped after the first shadow, fluttering near her head and resisting its own laughter. “It’s not always fun and games, Ashe.”

 

“Gotta enjoy the good times while I’ve got them, Dont. Spirits’ll keep getting bigger and badder and soon I’ll be stuck in an infinite loop of school and thievery. No thanks.

"Anyway, what are we looking for this time?” Ashe looked over to the pigbat as they both stepped into a beam of moonlight, the tiny pink furball floating with its black wings.

“ _Schlammwasser_ , by Angela Wagner. You should know it when you see it.”

“Of course I should… It’s part of the new exhibit, if I remember correctly. North wing.”

As they set off through the empty museum, careful to keep one eye out for any more security cameras or alarms, Ashe tried to feel bad for the people who ran the place…. and, of course, the major felony she was committing. It was for the greater good, she knew, but the thought of serving years - or even life - in prison, should she get caught, still kept her on edge.

She also had a hard time sympathizing with the museum’s curator. The last time she’d gone to the museum (granted, to scope the place out, but still), he’d seen her leaning on a staircase railing as she was looking at a painting and proceeded to tell her off about how the railing was fragile and could collapse under her weight and that she could fall and break things… although she still wasn’t certain if he was worried about her breaking her _bones_ or the _artwork_.

They passed that exact railing on their way down the stairs. Ashe stopped to deliver a swift kick to the side of it, the metal immediately denting from the sheer strength of the kick.

“Do you really have to add insult to injury, Ashe?” Dont sounded concerned as they descended to the main floor of the museum.

“Yes.” Ashe showed no remorse.

The pair turned the corner into the north wing, stepping forward into an exhibit of beautiful German artworks. A small ceramic statue built of an amalgamation of colors stood in one corner, with a majestic suit of armor opposite it. Paintings took up large areas of the wall, and the entire back of the wing was covered by a huge tapestry.

In the woven image, trees sat on a murky shoreline, half-sunken into the water. Mist and sunlight set a thin haze across the background, partly hiding some of the vegetation. Lilypads sat along the water, a few covering the reflection of the shore, scattered as they were.

Even without the dark energy she could feel coming off of the artwork, it would be clear which object in the room was possessed. A dark haze hung into the air, smelling strongly of saltwater and filling the space with unnatural humidity, and beams of sunlight shone on the occasional spot as if breaking through clouds.

Ashe cringed inwardly, thinking for a moment of all the damage the spirit’s wild growth could be doing. _This humidity could start rusting the armor, it’s probably going to wreak havoc on the paintings, and who knows what this weird haze is doing…_

She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. “ _Schlammwasser_.” Carefully, she took a step forward into the space, waiting for something, anything, to happen. When it became clear nothing was she took a second step, then another.

As she got closer to the tapestry and the mist grew deeper Ashe found more resistance in each step forward. It felt like her entire body was moving against steadily thicker mud, straining her muscles as she approached.

The comparison to the fog grew even more apt as she started to feel energy seeping from her like body heat being pulled out by chill muck. It wasn’t spiritual or physical, it was emotional; her will to go on. She tried to fight it, but it was impossible when the very energy she needed to fight was being sucked out by the effect she was trying to combat. She just wanted to lie down. Someone else could get the spirit. _Maybe if I lay down for a bit I can recover enough energy to get up and keep going. Yeah, I just need to rest…_

She looked back briefly, to see how far she’d made it (just over fifteen feet, a little less than half the room), and saw that Dont fluttering haphazardly, hooves covering her ears and eyes shut tight. Worry overrode her exhaustion. “Are you alright?”

“No, I’m _not_ alright! They won’t stop! They’re telling me I’m tired but I don’t think I am but I _want_ to be but I _don’t_ \- can’t you hear it!?” Dont sounded halfway to tears, though Ashe heard nothing but the pigbat’s own quiet, distressed squeals echoing off the walls of the empty museum.

Ashe couldn’t stop, she knew that much even with how much she wanted to, yet she still tried to listen. She did her damnedest to ignore the resistance in the air as she slowly moved forward, trying to focus on anything besides the how tired she was. “No?” She was getting close now, and the haze became thicker around her, the world coated in white.

“The spirit’s feelings - I mean the emotion-energy - it won’t stop talking!” Dont was actually trembling, wingbeats moving slower and slower before she finally landed on the ground. It was the last Ashe saw before the fog hid everything from her sight and she could no longer hear the distressed squeals of her pigbat companion.

Dont’s words sparked a realization in Ashe, and it left her enraged. It thought it could get to her with _this_? This spirit had no fucking clue what the inside of her head was like every day! It was pathetic if it thought something so weak was going to stop her or that blocking her view and muffling the sounds would make her forget that Dont was hurting and scared out there. She used the anger to burn away some of the haze, the drained, cold feeling in her mind, and what it couldn’t burn away she simply ignored. She pushed the exhaustion aside, continuing to fight the resistance in the air in spite of the exhaustion instead of along with it.

It was a difficult trek - long, slow, draining, and eventually painful as her muscles started to burn with the strain, each step seeming to take a century. Still, she kept going, steadily approaching the corrupted art.

Finally the thief stood before the tapestry, the only thing still clear in her vision, like she had hit an almost physical wall. The sight of it taunted her, even though the air was too heavy to move any further. Only one thing she could do now - she held her left hand up, thinking back on what she’d done before and hoping she was doing it right.

She reached within herself to gather purifying energy, like holding a ball of air - crackling green sparks danced across her skin and lept between her fingers. The light coalesced, pushing back the haze the tapestry made. She could almost see the walls on either side, now. Hoping that it was enough, she pushed her hand through the smog, and pressed the energy into the tapestry.

The buzzing in the back of her mind grew into a scream, which then became sobs, and finally a nervous but relieved giggle. The haze flickered, as if it was being pulled out of existence, and then the tapestry was shining with sunlight that enveloped the room.

—

The next morning, Kelly Garren rolled out of bed with a groan. She slapped at her buzzing alarm clock clumsily until it stopped, then sat up. “Why am I so exhausted?” she grumbled to herself, noting that she already had a headache.

“Because you had to suddenly deal with a humid environment after being outside where it was cool and wet which probably gave you a headache, and then you had to fight through a haze of despair for an hour while working against physical resistance, and then you actually used way too much energy purifying that spirit?” A lump under an extra blanket at the foot of her bed started moving, and a tiny pink snout emerged from under it, quickly followed by a fuzzy pink body with small, black, leathery wings.

“…Right. Of course.” Kelly sighed and offered Dont a small ear-scratch. It was hard to forget how distressed the pigbat had been, and she wanted to try and make up for it even if it wasn’t her fault - though she seemed back to normal already. “Was it really an hour? I was so tired afterwards I didn’t look at the time.”

“Yeah, emotional spirits tends to slow down your perception. At least when they’re corrupted. Like making things feel way longer when you’re sad. …But you were still really cool! And you did a great job taking care of it!” The pigbat headbutted her palm affectionately. “I was kinda scared when it started getting to me but you did a great job standing up to it. Even if it was more effective against other spirits, most humans would have given up by a few minutes in. Just watching you battle through that fog was amazing!”

“If you say so.” Kelly stood up and stretched her arms above her head, rolled her neck and shoulders with some satisfying pops, then started getting dressed. “But I can’t focus on that right now. I have to go get breakfast and - ” Her phone buzzed with a text message. “And apparently help Selena decipher Aeva’s notes on her homework since she’s running late today. I’ll be back later!” With a friend in need, Kelly moved more quickly, dressing in a blur and grabbing her backpack without checking for all of her books, pulling her red puff of hair into a ponytail as she dashed out the door.

The dorm’s cafeteria was still half-empty when she got there and Kelly quickly went through the line, grabbing a bagel and an apple before heading to the small table she usually shared with her friends. Eileen and Selena were already there, Eileen with a thick paperback balanced between the table and her lap and Selena taking up half the table with her notebooks, homework, and textbook all spread in front of her. She looked pale, her face notably lighter against her dark hands as she buried her head in them. “I’m so dead.”

Kelly tapped Selena’s turquoise headband as she sat down. “No dying on my watch.”

“Kels!” Selena perked up, and shoved her notebook at her. “Look! I did the practice problems, but Aeva just wrote a bunch of gibberish next to it. Between her and the professor talking too quick, I can’t understand anything!”

“When are you going to learn that you can’t read her handwriting?” Eileen looked up from her book, blue eyes teasing. “The only one that can is Kelly, so if you need Aeva’s help you might as well get it in person.”

Selena stuck her tongue out. “I didn’t have time to meet up with her!” She tugged on a bit of her hair, relaxing a little as it bounced back in line with the rest of her wavy locks. “Whatever. Kels, what can you do? Can you work a little magic?”

Kelly smiled at the fact neither of them knew just how on point that question was. She answered as she pulled a pencil out of her bag. “Let’s see.”

—

Figuring out Selena’s homework was quick enough - she’d mixed up a couple of equations between four different problems. Aeva never made it to breakfast, but they saw their gloomy friend as they all headed to different classes afterwards. Kelly yawned her way through history, but woke up in chem as the teacher mentioned that they would be getting a new teacher’s assistant next semester; they might be more informative than the overexcited gushing of Professor Dunstan. Then an early lunch period shared with Eileen, before math with Aeva. Selena was in literature class with her, but her art class was on her own. That worked for Kelly, though, since she could just use it as a chance to sketch out some design ideas when not paying attention to the lecture or after finishing the current project early.

Done with classes at three thanks to her last block being a free period, Kelly had an hour to kill before everyone else was done at four. She headed to her room - no Dont present, which made her feel nervous but wasn’t unusual for the afternoon - and switched her backpack for a messenger bag with a few sketchbooks and her wallet in it. Then it was to the quad so she could sit down on a bench while looking at greenery for inspiration and outline some ideas.

She got lost in it quickly enough, staring around herself and blocking the area into sections before writing down how to make it better: making paths more defined, picking flowing or overhanging plants that’d make the blocking seem less obvious. Lots of clear areas so that fog wouldn’t have places to cling to- she shook her head before the memories of last night could distract her. She wanted to get stuff done, she should think about productive things, fun additions like a wishing well. Mentally editing an existing place done for her warmup, she set out on her own design for a park.

“Sundial statues? What’re those?”

The voice just over her shoulder made Kelly jump, startled out of her concentration. She slammed her sketchbook shut and whirled around, hand instinctively gripping for a weapon she couldn’t summon now - quickly hiding it by letting her hand fall against the back of the bench when she realized it was just her friends. She relaxed, thinking that no, a corrupted spirit couldn’t possibly be here to mess with her, nor would it introduce itself with anything other than an attack. “You guys should know not to sneak up on me!”

The three of them shrugged, and Aeva stepped around to sit next to her, tapping at the sketchbook with a black nail. “We wanted to see what you’re always so earnestly working on. Gotta make sure I’m the only one planning a rebellion and anarchy.”

“Like you’d ever seriously destroy everything,” Kelly answered. “And it’s for a secretproject!” She was so used to rushing over talking about her work that she blended the phrase into one word.

“Ooooh, ‘secretproject’?” Eileen sat on her other side, already wearing her cream-and-red jacket that clashed with their green uniforms but that she never left campus without. “Tell us, we already saw some details!”

“We know it’s probably a landscaping thing,” Selena pointed out, leaning on the back of the bench. She was tall enough that it seemed a natural spot for her, standing over them all. “So just share already, before Eileen starts teasing you too much.”

Kelly huffed out a sigh. They both did have a point. So she opened her sketchbook up again, the page she was using handily bookmarked by her pencil. “You know how the city’s planning that new community center building? They’re putting a park around it, and running a contest for designs on the layout of everything. I want to enter.” She pointed at her centerpiece, the sundial statues. “These’d be a set of twelve statues, fitting a theme that could be set by the city council or whoever. Maybe alongside the Melinda Museum?” She had to hold back a chuckle at mentioning that place, considering last night. “It could be abstract, or maybe something simple like historic citizens of the city, our founders or something. Either way, you put them all surrounding a pillar- again, something fitting the theme, but it could be anything so long as it’s tall and simple - and it acts as a giant sundial, but it’s not obvious because there’s dozens of feet in between each point.”

“That’s actually really cool!” Aeva said, a rare smile crossing her normally dour face. “Why not share this before?”

Kelly’s cheeks tinged red, and Eileen chuckled. “Because she doesn’t like hearing praise. Remember, she tends to the background, not the spotlight.”

Selena lightly knocked both of the other two girls on the head. “Don’t tease! It’s really cool, Kels, and we hope you keep us in on this. I at least wanna hear more about it.”

“Thanks,” Kelly mumbled. She noticed something out of the corner of her eye as Selena switched the conversation to Aeva’s lack of penmanship and Aeva retorted about the dark depths not being understood. She glanced towards the trees, and saw a familiar pigbat barely hidden by foliage as she tried to get her attention. Kelly made a subtle wave at Dont, something that could be mistaken for a twitch or trying to stretch her fingers out after holding a pencil for close to an hour if her friends saw it. Then she quickly extricated herself from the conversation, citing a headache and homework so she could head back to her room.

—

“I’m missing dinner for this, you know. Eileen was gonna treat us all - well, technically her dad was, but still.”

Dont shrugged with her wings. “Sorry, but spirits don’t wait long. I could tell you where to find some really good wild mushrooms?”

Kelly rolled her eyes. At least she’d been able to use the few hours before sunset to get her homework done - she just wished she didn’t have to ditch her friends. “I’ll just grab some fast food on my way back or something.”

Dont didn’t seem put off by the decline. Rather, she was more focused on the sky outside. “It’s almost sunset. The spirit’s probably gonna activate soon. You ready?”

Kelly nodded and stood up. “As much as I can be.”

With one hand, she removed the pin from her red hair - a tiny, distorted clover, purple and gold. The words were strange, feeling even stranger when they left her lips, but she gripped the pin gently in both hands and said them, letting the power flow through her.

“ _Pretty Magical Spirit Thief Aesling!_ ”

There was a spark, then a flame, as warmth spread through her body… like coming in to a heated house after being out in the snow. She couldn’t see what was going on, but she could feel it - her hair bursting out from its tie, her school uniform fading away and replaced by new, more comfortable clothing. Her chest tightened, slightly, before being covered by a shirt and a jacket, then the addition of her bracers, gloves, pants, and boots.

Fire lit behind her eyes as she opened them, cold momentarily surrounding her neck and upper arms. The first thing she saw were streaks of violet light that wrapped around her jacket, coming to a sparkling halt as her belt appeared with them, the clover pin reforming onto her sash.

And, as Dont watched her, eyes open in amazement and quietly clapping her hooves together (though she’d seen the transformation before), Ashe gave into the impulse and struck a pose.

“Alright, then, let’s go!” The pigbat leapt headfirst out the open window. Ashe rolled her eyes, but followed, disappearing into the slowly growing shadows of dusk as she followed her friend.


	2. Detective Hartway Is On The Case!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detective Hartway begins an investigation at the Melinda Museum and meets its irritated curator as the break-ins there continue.

Hartway was excited, to put it lightly. In fact, one could even go so far as to say he was ecstatic. His first solo case! Well, not _technical_ first solo case, but it could go without saying that the incident with Ms. Smith’s cat really didn’t count.

Hartway flicked through the files he’d been given, noting with a scowl the overall lack of information that had been left for him. There was a single folder which held five stray sheets of paper, a couple newspaper clippings, and a post-it note with the words “ _inside job???_ ” hastily scrawled across it. He sighed. _At least it’s a start -_ something slammed into his torso, the sudden impact sending him to the ground and scattering his thoughts.

As he lay was on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky as his documents fluttered down around him like the tiniest flurry of snowflakes, a worried voice spoke up from his right. “Oh, oh geez! I am really, _really_ sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and my books were tilted out and oh man they hit you right in the stomach…” The voice trailed off.

The voice was familiar. Deepened by age, yes, but very familiar. He looked over at his accidental assailant as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, and when they locked eyes his tentative hope was confirmed. She was taller than he remembered, but with the same fiery red hair and bright green eyes that held just as much surprise as his own.

Her face scrunched up as she tried to place him, before lighting with a hopeful smile. “Gregor? Gregor Hartway?” She still seemed disbelieving.

“Red!” The detective beamed at her and scrambled up, scooping her up in a bear hug and lifting her off the ground in excitement. At her indignant “ _Hey!_ ” he remembered his manners (and the fact that he was currently on duty) and he put her back down, stepping back. Now he was a little awkward and apologetic, but it was still far outweighed by excitement. “It’s been, what, four years? Six?”

“Since middle school, at least.” Despite her displeasure at the over-exuberant hug she seemed almost as happy as he was. She was smiling at least, and Hartway always remembered her as serious even from childhood, so he was going to take that as a very good sign.

Together they started to gather and trade sheets as Hartway cheerfully grilled her. “How’ve you been? How’s school - you’re a junior now, right? How’s Wren?”

“Yeah, a junior. School’s boring, as usual, glad I’m almost done.” She passed him a few more papers with a slight pause as her eyes glanced over them. He hardly noticed, looking over each one himself before shuffling them back in order. “Wren’s started volunteering at an bird-rehab place just outside of town and she’s constantly bringing the new ones home to take care of. She just brought home the third one in as many months. I like him better than the last two - he’s not as loud as the others. Either she’s getting better at this or the last two birds were just jerks.”

“Sounds crazy.”

“And loud, and messy, yeah.” Despite the annoyance present, her voice was mostly good-natured, and they shared a quick, friendly chuckle at the well-intentioned chaos her cousin was bringing into her home.

Papers now fully gathered, the detective held his folder carefully in one hand and brushed his uniform off with the other. He wasn’t required to wear one, but he wanted to make an “official” impression on the first day of his big case, and having dirt all over him wouldn’t exactly help with that.

As he tried to brush off any dust and grime that his brief tumble might have accumulated, his old acquaintance and maybe friend (they’d always been on that weird grey border) pointed to the folder. “So what are all of those?”

Hartway knew he wasn’t supposed to talk about this stuff with civilians, but Kelly’s curiosity seemed innocent enough; it wasn’t like she’d read through everything before handing it back to him a minute ago. “I’ve got my first solo case!” He announced with pride. “I’m going to the Melinda Museum to talk with the curator there. These’re all the documents on it.”

Something flickered across her face, but before he could figure out what it was it was replaced by another smile so fast he was left wondering if it had been there at all. “Congratulations, then! Glad to hear you’re where you wanted to be.”

“Thanks - oh!” He caught sight of his watch. “Um, sorry to cut this short, but I might be running a little late.”

“It’s fine. I’m off to school anyway.” She waved, and turned to continue the way she’d been going. “See you later, Detective!” She sounded proud even though they hadn’t spoken in years and she was noticeably younger than him.

He waved back. “Bye, Red!”

Seeing an old friend, his first solo case… It was going to be a good day, he could tell.

—-

Kelly watched Gregor - _Detective Hartway,_ she reminded herself- until he rounded the corner, then shook her head and continued on her own way. It was a shame she couldn’t be properly excited over re-meeting someone she was always fond of with the worries swirling through her mind.

She didn’t want police poking around spirit things. What if they were there at night, what if a spirit attacked someone? Although at least it was only one right now, and from how small that folder was she might not have to worry about it for a while. What if someone pieced together who she was? She had to ask Dont about if her DNA or fingerprints might linger after a mission. At least the museum curator never seemed to get better cameras, or put up any sort of proper alarm system. That helped a little.

She quickened her steps. She was already late getting back to campus anyways, thanks to Wren needing help with that finch and asking her to stay until this morning. That combined with needing to talk to Dont as soon as possible about the detective situation had her more than eager to return to school.

—-

It was not going to be a good day, he could tell.

Hartway had expected the museum owner to be grateful that the case was getting its own detective, and to be eager to help with the investigation. The man standing in front of him, arms crossed and glaring, was quickly squashing that hopeful expectation.

The man wore a white shirt with the collar popped, a black vest, and matching black pants. His only other adornments were two silver bracelets, one hanging from each wrist, and a rather impressive scowl. Overall, he was a bizarre mixture of rumpled and neat that somehow managed to give the impression of simultaneously not giving a single shit and putting heavy weight on professionalism.

“So you’re the new idiot they assigned to the case.”

Suddenly, the other officers’ descriptions of him as a “hostile non-witness” and readiness to hand off the case was making a lot more sense. Still, Hartway tried to remind himself that surely he’d be sour too if his art kept getting stolen, so he put on his friendliest smile and retrieved his badge from his shirt pocket to display.

“Yessir. Detective Gregor Hartway, of the Braeden Police Department. I’ve been assigned to this case until the perpetrator is caught and behind bars. Well, caught at the very least.” The detective held out the hand not displaying his badge for a friendly shake.

The man just stared at the offered hand like Hartway had tried handing him a mange-ridden animal before looking back up into his eyes with a gaze that reminded the officer unnervingly of a dead fish. After a moment Hartway awkwardly withdrew his hand and put his badge away while the man continued to stare him down. “You have any experience with art?”

“No, sir. But I don’t have any experience with independent investigations, either. It’s my first solo case, and I can assure you it’s gonna go just fine.” He gave the man a sunny smile.

“Fan fucking tastic.” Even while swearing, the curator’s tone so far could only be described as deadpan. Without another word, the museum owner turned and began to head towards the building.

“Um, sir. Wait!” Hartway raised his voice to be heard as the man walked away. “I haven’t asked any questions yet!”

The man didn’t stop walking, instead shouting over his shoulder. “Then you can follow me. I got shit to do today!” By then he’d reached the front doors of the museum, swung them open, and stepped through, not bothering to hold them for Gregor should he choose to follow.

The detective rushed after him and slid into the building behind the man, the door almost slamming shut onto the edge of his jacket before he could get out of the way. He took a small notepad and pen out of his pants pocket and began what he might have been able to call questioning, if the curator had been more agreeable.

“So, who are you and what do you do?” he started as they began to walk through the museum. The front desk was unattended with a few hours left until the museum opened, as were all other stations. It was just the two of them for now.

“What, you don’t even know that?”

Hartway followed after him. “No, sir. I was only informed that a series of robberies had taken place, the most recent last night. I’ve got the files, but I thought it’d be best to talk to you before -”

“You’re just gonna get the same responses, kid.”

“Maybe. But I might ask different questions, and it’s worth being sure. I need to be as thorough as possible, sir. Now, can I have your name?”

The man raised his head as if rolling his eyes, but Hartway couldn’t be sure since his back was to him. “Dan. I’m the museum curator.”

“Dan…?”

“Just. Dan.” His voice became slightly more aggressive, and the detective decided not to question him further on the subject. There was probably an official file with his legal name in it somewhere back at the office anyway.

As “just Dan” resumed walking, Hartway took note of the building around him. Two wings of the museum extended to either side, and a set of granite stairs lead up to the next floor, while a smaller section extended out to the back of the lobby. A large, bright skylight sat over the center of the room, shining brightly onto a floor medallion made of brass and silver and displaying a mixture of geometrical symbols. Before it, in stylized golden letters, proclaimed “ _Melinda_ ”, the name of the museum proper.

“I’m surprised you met me at the door in the first place,” he remarked bluntly, guard down as he made his observations.

“Don’t want you messing with any of the exhibitions or breaking things. Place is broken enough already. Don’t want you getting lost and making me track you down before we open, either.”

The curator seemed to have nothing more to say, the officer taking the opportunity to begin scribbling notes onto his notepad. “So, this is the sixth robbery in the last month…”

“You said you didn’t read the files.”

“I check the newspaper,” Hartway proclaimed proudly. “It’s kinda part of my job. Though there’s not really been much said about it yet…”  
  
"Fucking lazy vultures. Back in my day, they got all their info by just reading the damn police reports! Didn’t have to take important time from other things by making me answer a bunch of stupid fucking questions unless there was a murder or something.”

The investigator looked slightly uncomfortable, swiftly moving to change the subject. “I take it you’ve been upgrading your security?”

“As best I can,“ snorted Dan. "I can barely manage to fix the cameras when they keep ending up broken. Don’t exactly have the funds to make this place all fancy, especially considering the lack of people dropping by. _Apparently_ no one wants to visit a place that’s a frequent crime scene, though the few who’ve been by only seem to care about the thefts.” He looked at the detective. “And they’re not exactly _just_ robberies.”

“What do you mean ‘not just robberies’?” Hartway raised an eyebrow as the curator began his trek up the set of stairs.

“What, the papers didn’t tell you?” Dan scoffed. He stopped in front of a wide hallway leading off from the main balcony. It hosted a series of pitchers set on pedestals around the hall, each painted with different biomes and animals in varying tones. One, though, at the very end of the corridor, was covered with a faded white sheet.

The officer looked up to the ceiling, something slight catching his gaze - the security cameras. The two he could see were each crushed to pieces, but still planted firmly in their place against the museum’s wall.

 _A quick flick, and the end of her whip was wrapped around a camera. She tugged hard and it twisted on the rod that held it from the ceiling, the torque resulting in several cracks and snaps, and when she pulled her whip back the camera was left hanging from two wires and pointed down. The second followed, and she nodded. “Okay, we’re good. I can guess which pitcher we’re after._ ”

Dan gripped the edge of the sheet and pulled it away. Somewhat anti-climatically, it drifted to the floor, revealing… a perfectly average jug.

Hartway had no idea what he was supposed to be noticing. “Um…”

“Are you goddamn blind? Look at the paint.”

Hartway leaned in closer, studying the raised strokes and vibrant colors. “Was this one made more recently?”

_It was like a vase, almost, save for a curved handle going down the side. Covered in a mixture of blues and whites of varying shades, it made for a beautiful ocean scene - sky-colored clouds floated in a white landscape, and dark blue fish leapt over a plethora of waves._

_Cracks like spiderwebs dotted its surface, making it look as if even the slightest touch would cause the entire thing to crumble to dust on the floor._

_As Ashe approached, the dim golden glow around her eyes grew brighter and a slight tremor ran through the jug, a dark, flickering light shining through its cracks._

_Water began to rise from its center, trickling over the rim of the jug and starting to pool on the floor. The flow quickly increased and soon it was a torrent pouring over the mouth of the jug, the museum’s own miniature Niagara Falls._

“Recently?! The original was created at the same time as the others …Ninety fucking years ago! This thing looks like it was painted yesterday!” The detective looked uncertain for a moment. _Better learn how to judge the dating on art quick if I’ll keep having to deal with this guy. It’ll probably help round out my reports, too._

He looked down the hall of artwork, then at the small descriptor plaque beneath the jug. “It says that it was found damaged, but this appears to be fine. Is that the only difference between it and the old one? I’m no professional, but it seems like it’s about the same style as the others.”

“Are you fucking suggesting that someone is breaking in, destroying my floors and _attempting to restore century old art?_ ” Dan gave him a look. “Not to mention they keep leaving the goddamn windows open. They could let in all sorts of other fucking things. What if it rains some night? There goes a whole fucking gallery!”

“They’ve been - oh. Um. Do you mind if I take fingerprints? And can you point me towards the window?” Hartway wasn’t quite sure how to address the other concerns.

“Same window it’s always been.” He gestured up at the ceiling across the small hallway. Sure enough, one of the large glass windows was left open and swinging gently in the breeze.

_Aesling leapt up onto the edge of the roof, gripping its side gently for balance. She began to sneak along the perimeter, retracing the same steps she’d taken a few nights ago and several times before that._

_She reached the familiar window, reaching out with one hand to open it before realizing that a padlock was attached to the window’s latch. Ashe rolled her eyes._

_“Do you really have to use the same window every time?” chimed Dont as the spirit thief brought out her whip’s handle, the rope growing out of it in a beam of green light before she wrapped it around the padlock._

_“If he secured the other ones properly as well, no. Placing a lock on a single window? I’m pretty sure that counts as a challenge.” Her grip tightened slightly as a short charge of electricity ran down the length of the whip, burning straight through the lock. She picked up its charred remains and tossed them behind her, sliding into the museum as it fell with a splash into the wishing well just behind the building._

“Put a padlock on it last night and it was open again this morning. Don’t think the fingerprints’ll help at all, though. Other idiot tried, said that there wasn’t any evidence - hair, skin, anything - that he could use.”

He glanced over at Hartway, who appeared to be studying him, gaze moving quickly between him and the window. “I’m not breaking into my own fucking museum to damage the fucking artwork, stop looking at me like that.”

“Sorry! It’s just something I have to consider. …Though, could it really be considered damaging? You said it was like a restoration had been done. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It’s not up to me whether it’s ‘good’ or not. Well, in this case I suppose it is, but the museum does have buyers. Some people want their artwork restored, some don’t. Some want it in its ‘original form’, some don’t want to ruin the beauty of it - think it adds to the charm or whatever. And, for normal museum-goers, the history of a piece can be as important as the original meaning. Not to mention restoring some of these pieces could take weeks, or even months. There’s no way in hell this thing was restored in one night with all the damage it had.”

Hartway held his chin with his fingers, elbow resting in his other hand’s palm, staring at the ground as he reflected on the information he’d been given. “In a way, that still helps us. If there’s any way of telling how recently it was fired we could find out how far in advance the thief plans their heists.” He was quickly slipping into “detective mode”. “It also tells us a lot about the thief themself. They’re going to extra risk to make a show of leaving these reproductions behind and the reproductions themselves show that this person is either extremely talented or they have someone they can turn to to get them painted and or sculpted. Maybe even multiple people, since it seems highly unlikely that one person could sculpt _and_ paint so well in multiple styles…”

“Huh. Looks like they actually sent someone vaguely competent this time. I’m impres - ” Dan interrupted, before stopping abruptly, staring at a small fish painted one of the walls.

The detective stared at him. There was a long moment of silence before Gregor finally spoke up. “Uh, sir…?”

“That son of a bitch is mocking me.”

 _As water from the jug began to flood the room, Ashe took a couple tentative steps back. “Dont…”_  
  
“On it!” The pigbat soared off and began circling the room, tracing the edge of the water. Her revolutions grew with it as it got wider and wider, nearly reaching the doorways. The air immediately around the tip of her wing rippled, the view behind it wavering in a way that reminded Ashe of the view from heat rising off of blacktop in summer. The ripple traveled down like a falling curtain till it reached the floor, staying there as as a barely-visible barrier which held the spirit-created flash flood at bay, protecting the rest of the museum.

_Accompanying the flow, a school of small, strange-looking fish began to leap through the ever-growing pond. They floated around Ashe’s legs, each nearly nipping at her heels._

_She fought them off with a snap of her whip whenever they got too close. “What are these things going to do?”_

_“I’m not really sure!” called Dont as she continued her laps. “But they could possibly be dangerous. Be careful, Ashe!”_

_“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Giving an irritated frown as they appeared to not be learning their lesson, the thief flicked her whip at the next one to swim within range, caught it on the end with a quick charge to make it stick, then swung her arm hard and released the adhesion at the end of the whip’s extension, sending the inky irritant flying. The fish hit the museum wall, but instead of splattering in an inky mess it burst on impact, flattening against the wall as it returned to its original painted form._

“What?” Hartway looked more closely at the small black fish painted onto the pristine white wall, fitting perfectly with the style of the supposedly replaced jug.

The curator ignored him. “And there’s one _missing_ on the new jug. The first time they made the replacement wrong instead of just having it look new - _clearly_ it’s a fucking insult! As if flooding the room wasn’t bad enough! Why the fuck is there water damage on the bottom foot and a half of the wall?! And ONLY in this room! There aren’t even doors to keep it in! How would water have even gotten in here?! What the hell!”

“Is there any chance a pipe might’ve burst inside the walls, maybe?” Hartway suggested with helpless optimism.

Dan paused his raging against the serial thief-vandal and turned to look at the detective flatly. “Really? _That’s_ your best guess? Oh, you’re gonna just be a _bundle_ of fun looking into this - I take back what I said about you being competent.“ The curator made a disgruntled noise. "Not to mention this exact piece was going to be sold today. Some scarfed kid came in for his boss, said it _'emphasized the artist’s inner darkness_ ’ or some shit. Doubt they’re gonna want it now. First piece they wanted was swiped, too. Swear this fuckin’ thief has it out for me.”

_Ashe stumbled backward as the makeshift lake began to reach up to her knees and into her boots, its waves surging now, and the fish growing bolder with each passing moment. She eyed the nearest pedestal holding another jug, matching the style of the one spilling over. She pushed her way over and gripped its handle firmly but gently in one hand, then waited a couple seconds before tossing it high into the air -_

_\- just as Dont flew by on another round, tumbling head-over-hooves in midair as she stumbled to grab the pitcher. “Also got it!” she chimed as she wrapped her little legs tightly around it. “You’re just lucky I’m good at catch!”_

_The thief put one hand onto the now-empty column and hefted herself up onto it, balancing carefully as she went from leaning on her side to crouching, then standing. The water continued to rise. She instinctively tried to step back, and barely caught herself when her foot hit only empty air. “This thing is smaller than I thought.”_

“That’s a shame. Can you tell me if the brush strokes are the same? I need to know how exact the replica is.” He didn’t care much about the sale at all, at least for the time being. Any patterns in customer interest overlapping with artwork replaced would come later. For now, he was more interested in how the reproductions themselves were being done.

“More or less.” With a sigh, Dan leaned in closer to the jug, then pointed at one spot along the rim. “There was some pretty bad damage right here, and a long crevisse ran down the edge. The colors have brightened some and it’s missing all of the kinks or cracks, but the strokes are on par.”

_Her whip rested in one fist, and a thin green spark ran down the end - turning it from a rope to a material resembling that of a spider’s web. She lashed at the air just above the leaking pitcher, having taken careful aim to a support strut just before doing so, and watched as it stuck. Ashe leaned forward off the pedestal, and pushed herself across the flowing water._

_It was gentle enough that she didn’t Indiana-Jones-it across the room so much as swing slowly in the direction of the jug. As she moved, half-worried that her arm might pull her shoulder out of its socket (though she doubted her spirit thief powers would allow it), she gathered purifying energy in her free hand._

_She held the sparking jade energy out to the jug as she moved closer - the dark lines along the cracks grew stronger, and it began to quake with fervor. She extended her hand, more, straining to reach, and touched it with just the tips of her fingers._

_An eerie flash, purple light combined with green, flooded the room._

“On par? So they didn’t get it exactly right? Could you use the differences between their brushstrokes and those of the rest of the set to possibly identify something about the artist? Which hand they’re using, maybe? Or whether their wrist seems weaker on the up or down strokes?”

“I might be stuck in this place all day but I haven’t memorized the exact strokes of every goddamn jug.” He looked at Hartway for a moment. “Kid, this isn’t fucking CSI. I run the museum. If you wanna figure that all out yourself, go ahead. Who knows, you might do better now than the other clowns that were here before you.” He turned and began walking away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta call the contractor to get the floors repaired. Really could’ve used the money from that jug…” He shifted to grumbling to himself as he walked away.

Gregor shouted after him, “Handwriting analysis is a legitimate and widely recognized method in crime solving!”

_Ashe smiled as the water began to drain into nothingness, and Dont’s containing walls slowly faded with it. “That went pretty well, but it might take some time for me to dry off.” The thief took both hands and wrung her hair out, looking annoyed as it dripped onto the already-soaked museum floor._

_“You’re one to complain!” Dont snorted grumpily. “I’m exhausted and I smell like wet dog.”_

_“…Are you sure you don’t smell like wet_ hog? _” The pigbat looked offended for a moment, but the expression quickly cracked and she fell into adorable grunting laughter._

_“Okay, I think we’re all good here.” The thief loosely wrapped her whip around her arm, then took a bounding leap up to the window she’d entered from, moving to resting in a crouched position on its sill. She glanced back at the room and at the pristine new jug sitting in the soaking wet remains (the other pitchers were also mysteriously unharmed, including the one that her companion had caught). “That went surprisingly well.”_

_“Yup. You could even say it went_ swimmingly _.” Dont fell into another round of laughter while Ashe rolled her eyes, stifling a chuckle of her own. She turned to leap down from the window and away from her latest crime, disappearing into the shadows and out of sight._

“Don’t care,” came an echo from down the hallway as Dan rounded a corner. “Do whatever the fuck you want, just _catch this goddamn thief!_ ”


	3. Horns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new Thief appears, not as a helper, but a rival.

Kelly thought back to the night before as she laid each piece of clothing down onto her well-made bed. She’d been thrilled to find the statue purified upon her arrival. The less fights the better, and the more actual sleep she could get. But when she’d gotten closer and really examined it, something about it had just been… _wrong_.

The statue was a gilded chinese dragon with every foot resting on a golden ball attached to the plinth it rested on, with its claws wrapped around and partly digging into the orb. Or, at least, they used to be. Ashe had still been able to see the furrows the claws left in the golden sphere, even if the were originally really one piece, but all of the claws on the dragon seemed to have vanished. There was no spirit left in the statue to attack her, but she’d found lingering corrupted energy in the piece, and it was only after she’d finished purifying what was left that the dragon went from showing minute signs of tarnish and aging to looking completely new. Except that the claws were still gone.

_Judging by the size of the dents left in that ball, the claws must have been pretty long… maybe the spirit grew them as a defense mechanism and when it was defeated, they disappeared?_

“It must’ve been another Spirit Thief.” She mused aloud, picking her uniform’s shirt up off the bed and pulling it over her head. “They were a little sloppy, but you won’t catch me complaining about having another Thief in the area to help deal with things.”  
  
Dont looked worried. “Ashe - ”

“Kelly,” she corrected reflexively.

“Right. Look, I talked with Miss Kyl’il after you went to bed and she says she hasn’t given anyone else powers recently besides you…”  
  
Kelly paused, registering what Dont had said. “You said only Guardian Spirits can make a Spirit Thief, right? Clearly, they were chosen by a Guardian Spirit, so it’s not like they’re a threat, right? Maybe they’re from out of town and just moved to Braeden? It could be that they don’t even know that there’s already a Thief here. The fact that they left residual corruption energy on the statue was probably just them being messy. It means they’re new to this and they screwed up, or something. It would also explain why they didn’t know to check for another Spirit Thief that was already here.”

“Even so…” The pigbat fluttered around, still more than a little nervous. “We’re going to leave early for the next one, even if we have to get there before the museum closes. I want to meet this new Spirit Thief. That is, assuming they’re not stupid enough to try purifying it during the day.”

“Whatever you say, Dont.”

—

Something felt off about the museum as she approached. Instead of entering immediately, Ashe stayed perched on the windowsill so she could look inside. The museum was darker than normal, covered in an almost solid blackness. A few faint white lines denoted what might’ve been corners or edges, but none of it lined up with where she knew the walls of the gallery to be.

“Dont?” she murmured. “Is this the spirit already? Can you contain it?”

The pigbat rested her front feet on Ashe’s shoulder as she leaned forward to look, her snout pressed against the glass of the window. “That’s definitely spirit magic! But this one woke up earlier than the others we’ve dealt with, I guess. It’s too spread out and my barrier wouldn’t work.”

“Is it the other thief?”

“Maybe. It’s possible they could have triggered its defenses.”

“Alright then.” Ashe summoned her whip and broke the padlock on the window, flicking it over her shoulder with practiced ease. She aimed at where she knew the camera always was as well, even if she couldn’t see it, and felt her whip crush it like always. She couldn’t help but smirk at that. “Let’s go.”

“Careful!” Dont insisted, even as the thief jumped into the black. She grunted, annoyed, and flew after her.

Inside the darkness, it was like being in a film negative - her surroundings were pure white. Ashe looked around, could barely see the outlines of the exhibits she always walked past, grey and black shapes standing against an expanse. She had no sense of depth right now, and when she turned to check behind her Dont was merely another black shape as well. “Any ideas?”

“I think it’s meant to be a maze.” Dont landed on the floor with a nod. “Some of this is solid, anyways.”

“Well if it’s a maze…” She reached out with her right hand, nodded as she suddenly touched what felt like a cool wall. “I’ll just follow this path.” She started walking, keeping her hand on the wall. She followed along as it turned, knowing that eventually it’d lead her to her goal. The spirit was probably at the center of this, so she figured it should only take half the time actually solving a maze would.

“Ashe, look out, there’s something - ” Dont suddenly called out, before her voice was muffled.

She whirled around, but saw only blank whiteness behind herself. Ashe reached out and realized that a wall had formed between them. “Dont!” she shouted. “You alright?”

“I think so!” She could barely make out the words. “I’m going to see if I can fly above this. You keep going, I know you can handle it!”

Ashe smiled to herself. Even in the middle of all this, the pigbat stayed cheerful. She couldn’t help but carry that optimism herself as she turned forward again. “Alright. So if it can move the walls, I can’t just solve this like normal. Guess I’ll have to rush it!” She started running, taking turns at random, trusting her instincts to guide her to the spirit. She knew she should be able to sense it, even in the middle of all this power, but didn’t dare risk second-guessing herself about it.

Finally, she reached what felt like an open space. She could see a black cube in the middle, clashing against the white surroundings, and headed towards it. The spirit threw up a wall in front of her, blocking itself from view. Ashe scowled and backed off a bit, circling around. Every time she tried to move closer and get within a few feet of it, it threw up a surface to block itself. Gradually, she noticed it took a few seconds for the walls to lift up and shield it - she moved back once more, walking around to a wider area while putting energy into her weapon to shift it, then lashed at the painting with her whip.

She managed to strike it, even as a wall started raising and pushing the whip’s cord higher. As soon as it hit the cube, the space around her flickered. Cracks appeared in it like the breaking of glass, and it shattered apart. She sensed the spirit in a painting hanging against the wall and dismissed her whip back to whatever extradimensional space it was usually stored in as she approached the possessed piece.

Aesling’s fingers rested gently against the painting’s frame, glad to have finally found it in the twisted maze of negative space that the museum had become. She could sense the spirit, but just barely, flickering and weak. Odd, for such a strong defense, even if she had managed to hit it already.

The piece was a colorful cityscape against a rainy grayscale sky, but it had become warped, streaks of black and white ruining the pristine image and leaving splotches across the canvas. _“Nuages de gris.”_

She smiled, gathering up purifying energy in her left hand, the process having already become a habit by this point. With no one to hear she let herself muse aloud. “Finally, a spirit that doesn’t want to kill me. Maybe for once I can be home by midni - ”

Primal instinct, a sort of sixth sense that had been boosted by her transformation, alerted Ashe to oncoming danger. Before she could even consciously register the threat her muscles were moving. Ashe jumped forward and simultaneously twisted to the side as something cut through the air where moments ago her legs had been. She wasn’t quite fast enough and the attack still sliced open the side of her leg, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it would have been without her timely transformation-enhanced reaction.

By her first footfall after the initial evasive maneuver Ashe’s entire body had turned to face the danger, and after one more leap propelling her backwards she landed and assessed her attacker. For a moment a part of Ashe panicked, thinking that perhaps a security guard or an actual _burglar_ was here, but she quickly calmed that portion of her mind with rationality because normal security guards and burglars didn’t try to slice people’s tendons open from behind with fencing rapiers made of some weird purple metal - and that’s exactly what this psycho was using. Besides, even if the weapon in his hands didn’t prove the person before her was not of any mundane origin, his appearance certainly did.

A boy of indeterminate age - but seeming older than her - stood a foot from the painting, just behind where she had been. Blond hair hung down his back and framed his pale face. He watched her with bright blue eyes, standing out against the black mask wrapped around his head. He wore an almost-black green suit, with pale green undershirt and red tie, deep maroon pants, red-and-black bracers, and high black boots. Finishing the almost-gaudy but somehow classily put-together ensemble was a black cloak swept out behind him, the underside a vibrant indigo. Horns sat at the base of his hairline, and his nails were a dark crimson - definitely not just a human.

Finishing her scan in the space of two breaths she raised her eyes to glare at her attacker. He responded with a small wave and a fanged smile, seeming completely at ease and as though he hadn’t just tried to fucking _hamstring_ her. “Hello there. It’s an honor to finally meet you. I’m tonight’s scheduled entertainment.” He gave an exaggerated bow, sweeping his sword to the side dramatically and pulling his cape out. “I’m supposed to introduce myself as ‘Horatio’, but I think we can both agree that’s a less than suitable name. You can just call me Markus.” Straightening from the bow he gave her a wink, one corner of his lips quirking further up. “I like to be given proper credit for my accomplishments. And besides,” He shrugged, almost offensively casual. “The best case scenario is that I incapacitate you …but a lot of accidents can happen in a fight. It’d be rude of me to not give my actual name to spend your final breaths on.”

After a moment of staring - during which the blond psychopath across from her seemed to be increasingly amused by her reaction - Ashe finally gathered herself for the most obvious question in the situation. Namely, “ _What the hell was that for!?_ ” She gestured to the spot where she’d been standing when he attacked her and his sword in the same angry movement.

He didn’t so much as flinch in the face of her (completely justified) rage. “You know, I’m glad you asked that.” He flourished his cape again. Seriously, where did this guy come from? He was surreal. Had he not almost hamstringed her moments ago he would have reminded Ashe of a cartoon villain. “See, I am here for almost the same job you are, but if you somehow get yours done I can’t do mine.” He took the extra half-step needed from his earlier position to be in reaching distance of the painting and plucked it off the wall by the frame, holding it up almost tauntingly. Ashe suddenly realized that what she had thought were nails were actually claws and shuddered. 

“My job is to capture this little guy and deliver him to my employer, which I can’t do if you’ve purified him and released his energy.” He continued his explanation with no care to her reactions, but then paused and seemed to think for a moment before giving her another smile. “You know, maybe you could just not show up anymore and we could both avoid a _huge_ headache.”

Ashe was actually stunned out of her anger by just how weird this guy was. He was actually just going to ignore that whole “tried to cripple her” thing and _honestly_ seemed to think she might agree to let him do whatever he wanted. “Why in the _hell_ would you want to capture it if you’re another Spirit Thief? Couldn’t you have just _asked_ me first?! I mean, I wouldn’t have said yes, but you didn’t have to - you’re nuts!”

His smile vanished. “And _you_ , madam, are rude.” His grip shifted and tightened on his sword and with a pop like a log crackling in a fire he disappeared in a puff of black mist.

A second later there was another pop just behind her and the sudden smell of rotten eggs. Ashe ducked just in time for the sword to slice through the air where her spine would have been. She turned the duck into a roll forward, shifting it into a handstand once her hands were braced on the ground and using the momentum from straightening to kick up at his arm, still extended from swinging his blade. She drove her heel into his wrist and knocked the sword out of his hand and it went flying several feet back. She’d been aiming for his elbow, trying to disable him, but it wasn’t exactly easy aiming a kick like that. She’d take what she could get.

Ashe sprang off the floor with her handstand and back towards the sword, landing over it several feet from her attacker and immediately sinking into a fighting stance. She was now between him and his weapon and ready to defend from any attack he threw at her. His longer limbs would mean better reach, but he didn’t look very strong.

He should have been worried, but instead he smiled and a substance like dark mist started to gather and condense over the upturned palm of the same hand that had been holding his sword. “ _That_. Was a bad choice.”

Without any sign that it was fully formed, he pitched the ball of roiling haze, continuing his easy-going “conversation” with her as she dove out of the way and behind a pedestal for cover.

“Oh, and that’s _Devil Thief_ to you, Miss… Ashley, was it?” He couldn’t have sounded more condescendingly glib if he’d tried. Actually, now that she thought about it, he probably _was_ trying.

She leaned her head out around the corner of her cover spot just far enough to half-yell her response. “My name is _Aesling_.” She called her whip back into its physical existence, energy gathering to create the familiar silken lash. As the comforting weight fell into her grip, her grasp tightened. “How would you know, though? I never introduced myself.”

She leapt out from behind her cover and rushed forward, flicking out her whip and with careful precision wrapping it around the hand Markus was using to hold the spirit-infused painting. Ashe pulled hard and he let go of the painting as he used his free hand’s claws to cut through the rope, the pieces slowly drifting down to the floor before dissipating in green flashes of energy.

“Let’s just say your friend-in-high-places knows my friend-in-high-places and leave it at that,” he replied. With another echoing _crack_ he disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

She scanned the room, tense but patient, and attempted to keep one eye on the fallen painting. _Where’s Dont? Does she know about other thieves being so aggressive - she never told me! If he sees her, he might target her instead of me, and I’m not going to let that happen._

Ashe caught something coming towards her from the corner of her eye and ducked just in time to avoid another of those murky dark balls. It scorched the wall behind her, but the mark disappeared almost instantly, vanishing in a murky vapor as if part of the shadows itself. She knew she had to finish this quickly - that was too close of a strike, and she didn’t know how many hits she could take from this guy. Ignoring the burning pain in her leg, she rushed for the painting.  
  
“I think _not!_ ” Markus’ voice echoed from her right, and another pop sounded as he appeared next to her. He grabbed her arm, pulling her to the side, having retrieved his sword and holding it to cut into her torso as she fell. “You’re pretty good, I’ll admit. You’re just not nearly good enough for this.” It was an open taunt, as if he’d already decided this was his victory.

Ashe hissed in pain as she hit the floor, the cut on her side already burning like her leg. Was his sword poisoned? She managed to rise to her knees.

He continued, oblivious. “For what it’s worth, you did make my evening far more entertaining - ”

She pulled back, and tried striking him with her whip again, putting power into it to change its form. She didn’t know what he or his boss wanted exactly, but she was not letting him take this spirit.

He caught her whip on his arm, glaring at the sticky web clinging to his sleeve. “You’ve really got to be more creative than this.” He raised his other hand to cut through it again, but this time his claws stuck to the surface instead. He let out a snarl, pulling against her.

Ashe held on tightly, matching his glare. “Or maybe _you_ need to stop underestimating me.”

Suddenly, the painting flickered. A new cube of blackness started growing around where it lay, and Ashe swore - there was no way she could get to it right now. A sudden wind came in as something rushed past her, and she looked away from Markus to see Dont flying in, the air around her wings already rippling with the energy of her barrier. The pigbat circled wide around the two thieves, then closed in on the spirit and contained it. The darkness pressed against the dome of Dont’s magic, but was unable to pass it.

Taking advantage of his distraction Ashe fought through the remaining pain to get her feet properly under herself, keeping her right hand on her whip and her other hand pulled back. She smashed her fist into his chin in a makeshift uppercut and sent his head snapping back.

“Ashe!” Dont called as she settled on top of the barrier. “You need to loosen a binding! Before you lose too much blood and can’t focus!”

Markus couldn’t decide which of them to glare at, rubbing his chin in pain and grimacing. “I see you have a little rodent following you. Should’ve figured - you’re not impressive enough to beat any spirits on your own.”

She blinked in confusion. Dont hadn’t mentioned bindings before. Did she mean physical, mental, spiritual? Thinking back on it, there was a feeling in the back of her mind that she had first noticed when she transformed. Something being repressed, like being _restrained_ …

Slowly, Ashe directed her own smirk at Markus and reached within herself for that little bit of power. “You think so?” She laughed as she focused on it coursing through her veins, life and fire and energy all rolled into one. She wanted to bring just a touch of it out, and the slightest press of her willpower set it loose.

The power began to dance along her skin for just a moment, and she felt her upper armlets snap off. All the open space of the museum seemed to grow louder, more noticeable, as she felt her ears shift and change. Suddenly she could pick up so much more, from the air flowing through the museum’s vents to Dont and Markus’ heartbeats.

She fed some of her energy into the whip, and all of a sudden its cord disappeared, replaced with a bolt of lightning that arced towards her opponent.

Markus shouted a curse as the lightning reached him, singing through his clothes and shocking him. He disappeared, but this time Ashe knew where he was, could hear his breathing as he reappeared, crouched into a corner against the ceiling. She turned towards him quickly enough to see him charging another of those shadow blasts, although his arm hung limply. “Just leave already! You can’t beat me now.” She shouted.

“Like hell I’m surrendering to _you_.” He threw his attack at her, but didn’t seem concerned that she could dodge it easily. Instead he vanished once more, only to reappear above Dont. The pigbat squealed, somehow moving quickly enough to avoid the Devil Thief as he landed on top of her barrier. It shimmered with the impact, and he grinned savagely. “I win,” he said, before stabbing his sword hard into the dome.

Ashe reacted quickly as cracks formed on the barrier. She lashed at him again, the bolt striking him square in the shoulder. It stunned Markus; she could hear his heart skip a beat, and saw more sparks of lightning bouncing off of him. She used the chance to rush at the painting once more, before it could establish its barrier and keep her away, before Markus would be able to fall onto it. She gathered purifying energy in her right hand, focusing everything else that she could into the whip to keep him frozen for as long as possible.

At the last second she let go of the bolt, sending another past the disappearing shreds of Dont’s barrier to collide with the darkness pressing out from the painting. All of the magics present shattered at once in a roar of energy that she felt in her core, Dont’s vibrancy mixing with the painting’s confusion. She pressed through it until she felt her fingertips hit the frame, forcing purifying energy through the piece, cleansing the spirit.

Chest heaving, Ashe looked back over her shoulder at the probably very angry sword-wielding blond. She wasn’t sure she could win a fight with him now, if he still intended to.

It was then that she realized just how exhausted she was - she collapsed to the ground, Markus standing on wobbly legs a few feet away. His expression had darkened, all previous remnants of playfulness gone. “You’re just lucky I can’t kill you, or this would end very differently. Expect that our next meeting won’t go so well, ” he said, his breathing heavy. With another pop and puff of dark mist he vanished, and Ashe didn’t hear his heartbeat reappear anywhere nearby.

Dont landed next to her, nudging her side. “Ashe, we have to hurry,” she said. “You have to take care of your wounds, and then we have to get out of here before you burn through all your energy.”

“What?” Ashe looked down, realized there was blood on her shirt and pants from the cuts. She swore, startled by it all - with the extra energy surging through her, she hadn’t felt the pain for the last little while. “Fuck. Dammit, I have to get this taken care of.” She stood slowly, expecting to feel unsteady.

“It’s okay!” Dont insisted. “You’re alright, for a few more minutes. The tiredness shouldn’t completely hit you until you go back to normal, and the injuries themselves will heal up then too, so long as they’re not terribly serious. You’re still losing blood in this form, but since you wound up pulling on two bindings instead of one, you can patch yourself up.”

“Can I?” Ashe frowned, but now that she was aware of the ability, what she needed to do seemed almost instinctive. She pressed one hand against the cut in her torso, and focused some of her power there. Crackling white threads formed over it, almost like stitches, keeping the wound shut and pressing it so she wasn’t bleeding so much. She did the same for her leg, and nodded. “Okay.” She picked up the painting, using the walk to hang it back on the wall as a way to make sure her leg wasn’t stinging with every step now. “That’s - wow, that’s amazing! Why don’t I do this all the time?”

Dont shook her head. “Because you’re going to be exhausted once you get back to normal. Even more so than usual.”

“Oh.” Ashe frowned, headed back towards the window she used as an entrance and exit from the museum. Now that the fight was over, she felt a quiet anger starting to build. “I still can’t believe that asshole! Almost crippling me, or that a Guardian Spirit might be malevolent enough to send someone - ”  
  
“That’s not how it works!” Dont interrupted, following her. “Guardian Spirits don’t hurt humans, not without being corrupted by something _really_ big, and something was off about him. I don’t think he’s a normal Spirit Thief.”  
  
“Well, obviously! Didn’t you hear him? ‘Devil Thief’, whatever the fuck that means!” Ashe tried not to shout, even though she wanted to. “Look, just - I’m worn out, and stressed, and your explanations for where he came from aren’t working, so just. Don’t bother with it, not right now. Alright?” Even though she managed to keep quiet, her words were terse, and Dont faltered a little.

“…Okay, Ashe,” she answered. “Let’s just go home, I guess.”  
  
Ashe nodded silently, jumping up to the windowsill and then dropping to the ground outside. The sooner she could sleep this whole ordeal off, the better.


	4. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelly’s remaining anger about the other Thief persists, prompting Dont to introduce her to Kyl’il so she can explain things.

The flames of her domain, each typically a slow, gentle burn, began to flicker and dance. Kyl’il frowned, leaned close to one, and focused. The core of the lantern turned black, then consumed itself and faded away, leaving her staring at embers. She cursed, turning to another - it, too, went out. Then a third.

She knew where the lanterns’ doubles were each situated, spots of the city she had long since memorized, and knew exactly when something was wrong. Someone was _there_ , doing _something_ , and though she doubted anything dangerous would happen tonight, she could not see the future to know when it would.

The spirit turned to face another lantern. “You don’t know what you’re messing with!” she said, using a bit of power to project her voice through the flame.

The flame continued its innocent dancing for a moment more before a new image cut into it: a thin, jagged smile, borne wider by the fire’s sparks. It flickered but for an instant, then disappeared as the lantern’s light died.

Kyl’il paused, fighting for a moment to regain her composure. It had been a while since she’d heard of this adversary’s whereabouts, and now it seemed they were determined to release darkness and burn the world to ash. She couldn’t do anything to stop this, knowing what she knew of this meddler. The faintest traces of their magic left upon the lanterns, that brief glance of a grin - directly interfering with corrupted spirits, especially one of such power, was forbidden. A personal rule she was not eager to break.

“A Guardian is needed,” she murmured to herself, moving one hand and ushering a large, glowing light from its nest in the center of her room. _When was the last? Only just over a decade ago, although she…_ Her fist clenched ever so slightly, and spoke aloud again so her decision was more certain. “No, there will have to be a new one. I cannot waver on this.”

The light pulsed gently as it grew nearer to her. “Show me the city.”

It shifted. Blinking yellow lines formed, and then twisted. Slowly, the ball morphed itself into a map, the brightest points giving it the illusion of depth and form. “Show me those with the strength of heart to wield my power.” Pinpricks of orange appeared, each in a different position across the field of gold.

Kyl’il tapped the side of her leg, thinking. Not just anyone could handle her gifts. Most would be torn apart instantly, their souls unable to cope with the very essence of something so inhuman - she watched the pinpricks, memorized three or four of them, and then looked back to her lanterns.

The art district kept her intrigued. A good start for many reasons, the least of which being the frequency that her Guardian would have to stop by. If they already visited enough, there would be no suspicions aroused when sent there on business.

The lanterns’ views shifted. Kyl’il looked out from still-lit streetlamps, a candle’s flame in a window, a television on display in a store. Though electricity had long since become the norm, it did not stop her sight stretching out across the city. If anything, it made it easier. Each potential Guardian was easily caught in just the right place for her view to reach.

The spirit looked to the first, a brunette man stopping and asking questions of people. He showed a few of them a badge - no, he was unfit. Clearly an officer of some kind, and Kyl’il knew that sort had trouble putting their mundane lives out of focus. Too many Guardians had become distressed by that dilemma, she’d rather not have another if she could help it.

The second was a middle-aged woman, a young man chatting pleasantly with her as they went up the street. Kyl’il decided against her as well - she needed someone with youthful resilience. “Curse humans for aging so,” she muttered, before moving on to the next.

The third was young. Red hair tied back into a tight ponytail, a long green sweater reaching down to her wrists. She stopped outside each building, looking over the posters plastered there with interest. A trio of girls wandered ahead, then noticed their companion was missing before walking back and practically dragging her away. “C’mon, we’re here to meet up with the boys from Korrain! We can check out the concerts and stuff later.”  
  
The redheaded girl sighed, but nodded. “Okay, okay! But I haven’t seen this group advertised before, and that engineering museum has a new exhibition…” She stopped, seeming to remember her friends having a conversation without her input. “Sorry. So, who’re these boys from Korrain?”

Kyl’il turned the lantern back to its usual vantage point, considering. That girl seemed like she might be somewhat weak-willed, but the map had shown that her aura was a strong one and she wasn’t a stranger to the art district. And she was young, even younger than the officer had been. Not even an adult yet, by human standards. Kyl’il doubted she would be tempted or injured easily, and thought her likely to be devoted and capable.

“I think she will make a fine Guardian,” she mused. “Kelly Garren, and… I believe Dont will be glad to have something to do.” She nodded, and slowly stood from her floor mat. The spirit turned and left the room.

There were many things to set in motion.

—

Returning to her dorm after fighting Markus, Kelly fell into bed and slept for twelve hours. She missed her classes, and her friends came to check on her and give her copies of their notes. Even with so much rest, she was sluggish for a while after that, and definitely glad that spirits tended to show up a few days apart.  

And, even though it was a few days later, Kelly still showed signs of annoyance at Dont. She wasn’t _ignoring_ the pigbat, exactly, but her words were sharp and she didn’t offer nearly as much conversation as usual. Dont decided she had to take things into her own hooves, before this became their normal.

She was gone most of the third day, finding what she needed. Thankfully, it was relatively easy to find kids willing to share their toys with her - it just took a bit longer than planned as she got distracted while playing with them. In the end, she got back before Kelly, and that was all that really mattered. She settled to wait, and was pleased when it took a little less than twenty minutes for Kelly to get back to her room.

As soon as the door started to open, Dont took in a huge breath and then gently let it go, flying back and forth along the ceiling.

Kelly froze, surrounded by a shower of bubbles. “What?” She looked up, eyes widening at the dozen or so bubble wands taped to the ceiling and a very tired-looking pigbat flying along the line of them to make as many as possible. On the far wall multiple pieces of paper had been taped up, reading “I’m sorry!” with some drawings of Dont and her smiling together that looked like they’d been made by little kids.

Despite her seething anger lately, Kelly couldn’t help but smile at all the effort her little buddy had put in for this. “Alright, I guess I’m done with the cold shoulder. Since you put in so much effort.”

Dont squealed happily, half-flying and half-falling into her arms. “Really, Ashe? That’s great!”

And just like that, her bad mood returned. “Kelly. My name is Kelly, remember? The Spirit Thief stuff is only temporary. Which I thought maybe I’d have help, with another Thief around -” She dropped her arms, Dont’s wings fluttering on instinct so she could avoid crashing to the floor, and started pacing. “But no! He’s fighting me, and apparently works for someone that wants the dark spirits for some reason instead of purifying them? I don’t understand this at all, even though I keep thinking about it.”

“Yeah.” Dont settled on the bed, pawing at the blankets nervously. “I didn’t expect any of this either.”

“You’re the one that got me started on this!” Kelly pointed accusingly at her. “Who else is out there opposing us? What do they want? What else aren’t you telling me?”

“Sorry…” She bit her lip, wings folded tightly against her back. “I think, maybe… I should take you to see Miss Kyl’il. She’s my boss after all, and knows more about this than me. Technically you’re the first Guardian I’ve shared some of my power with, and most of what you have is coming from her.”

“And she never came to talk to me because…?” The words came through gritted teeth. She hated being left out of the loop, hated feeling manipulated, but she tried to keep herself calm with Dont opening up like this.

“Because there’s big things happening! I wanted to explain it to you, but Miss Kyl’il said I should hold off until we had more information. I haven’t had the chance to talk to her since you fought that other Thief, though, so I need information too! Please, Kelly? I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

Kelly growled slightly as she ran a hand through her hair. “I guess I should’ve known. You mentioned her before, and I wrote it off. I thought maybe you had a friend or something, not a _boss_. I’ll go with you, since that’s all I guess I _can_ do right now.” She took a breath, then slowly offered Dont a faint, wavering smile. No reason to keep misdirecting her anger. “I’m sorry for losing my temper. You have been trying, right? I should’ve realized you’ve got your hands tied, considering how quick you are to explain normally.” She looked around again, at the bubble wands and paper brought in. “And maybe be careful with this stuff in the future? What if I brought a friend in here?”

“Oh. Good point.” Dont giggled at herself, and the duo set about knocking everything down so they could put it away before heading out.

—

Together, they approached the bridge.

It was a long metal structure, with wooden planks lying across the top, that stretched from the mainland to a small island that sat just off the coast. It was a beautiful island - a large white lighthouse sat at the tip of it and stretched into the sky, surprisingly well kept for a part of town that appeared to be left in disrepair. The rest was a grassy meadow lined with a field of flowers, all sorts of colors and varieties, coating the island in a myriad of hues, save for a thin path that cut through to the door of the lighthouse.

Storm clouds hid the sun, having quickly rolled in over the last hour. The beacon at the very top of the lighthouse shone brightly, cutting through the dark haze, and accompanied by the rolling waves dancing with the beacon’s light, it was a sublime sight.

At first, Kelly couldn’t see why anyone would abandon such a beautiful island, but as she drew near the bridge, it became obvious. The frame only reached out ten feet or so, and then the end dropped off into the ocean. There was a maybe fifty feet gap before the other side, with the lighthouse island and another section of broken bridge.

“Dont,” she said as she inspected the shattered splinters of wood still just barely hanging onto the metal. “You realize I can’t fly, right?”

“That’s why we have this!” Dont fluttered around before diving underneath the broken bridge. Kelly grabbed onto one of the posts that was stuck into the grass and seemed the least likely to break. With that as a balance, she leaned over the edge of the small precipice, trying to find her companion.

Her eyes widened at the sight of Dont sitting in the middle of of a medium-sized rowboat, bobbing slowly in the water. The stem of it curled up into a lantern hook, but otherwise it was as plain as could be.

The pigbat smiled and waved her forward. “Come on! We don’t want to keep Miss Kyl’il waiting!”

Kelly glanced to the side, surprised that there were rough steps poked out of the ground, cut from the cliff side. They were hardly visible at first glance, between the overgrown grass and the light of the quickly setting sun shining straight in her eyes. At the bottom of the stairs, there was a worn dirt path along the coast, leading up to the rowboat.

She silently cursed herself for not wearing her boots as she made her way down the stairs, some of the more jagged pieces of rock poking hard at her feet. Finally, she reached the boat and ran a hand along its weathered side. It looked sturdy, but something about it felt weird. “Are you sure this is safe?”

Dont flapped her wings and tapped the boat’s bench with a hoof. “Would I be asking you to get in if it wasn’t? I thought you trusted me more than that!” She grunted, turning her head away from Kelly.

The girl sighed, then climbed into the boat. She rested a hand on Dont’s head as she sat down. “Sorry. I do trust you. I’m just… I don’t like that someone asked you to keep important information from me.”

“Yeah - and I really want to tell you everything! But Miss Kyl’il is… Well, you’ll see why I couldn’t go against her at all.” Dont scrunched her nose up as a drop of rain fell on it, then shook her head and looked at Kelly. “Okay, so to get there, you need your Spirit Thief abilities -”  
  
“You couldn’t have told me to transform before I got down here?” she grumbled, even as she took her pin out of her hair. She recited her title, and felt the familiar warmth spread through and over herself. Ashe settled again as the rowboat rocked side-to-side from the force of her transformation, trying not to let it unnerve her. “Now what? I notice that there’s a distinct lack of oars.”

Dont pointed to the front of the boat, at the glass lantern hanging there. “Just open that up and touch the center, then let a little bit of your power into it.”

Ashe nodded, leaning forward (no, the boat did _not_ dip further than it was supposed to as she shifted her weight) and grabbed the tiny latch on one edge of the lantern. She tugged on it and the side nearest her swung open. She called up a bit of power, almost as if she was going to purify a spirit, but now all it could do was surge to her fingertips. Light coalesced there, forming into a softly glowing orb, which she let inside the glass. She shut the lantern, and noticed that the light made silver whirls on the glass visible. They shined brighter with each passing second, gradually revealing the thin wisps of a flame’s outline.

Dont stared at the lantern. She seemed calm for once, instead of hyper or anxious, and maybe a little awestruck. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen something she made just for mortals. I forgot how much she wants to put them at ease.”

Even though she hadn’t seen anything like this either, Ashe had to agree. She did feel safe, watching that lantern, as if everything was taken care of. A moment later, the boat started moving, just in time for the few drops of rain to turn into a storm. She grimaced and rubbed her upper arms, trying to keep herself from feeling the first stings of cold.

The boat didn’t really move through the water so much as lifted and glided above it. The ride was smooth, and as they got closer to the other island the lantern continued to shine brighter and brighter. When they were almost at the other side of the broken bridge, the lighthouse’s beacon suddenly stopped in its rotation. It shone on them, and the beam narrowed as flames rushed along its path.

Ashe flinched instinctively, but the fire didn’t actually burn. Instead, it faded into embers as quickly as it started, which then became a mass of flower petals. Most of them settled into a solid path that stretched across the air, while a few extras drifted away into the waters below.

“Kyl’il’s welcoming you!” Dont couldn’t help herself and started flying again, somersaulting in the air. She tapped down on the petals, standing as tall as she could. Ashe thought her posture oddly akin to someone making a salute or bow, even though Dont didn’t make either motion. “And me as well! Welcome to Kinir’s Lighthouse, with all the hope we can bestow on you!”

Ashe got out of the boat. She couldn’t feel the rain anymore, but she could hear it - it was as if the beacon was a solid tunnel, and the rain rattled off of it like a hundred chimes being struck at once. She stepped onto the path of flower petals and light, and felt reassuring warmth on her skin. Like spring sunlight, or a fall bonfire. As she walked past, Dont kicked up a few petals at her. She laughed and ran a hand through her white hair, shaking most of them loose, although she didn’t bother with the ones that landed on her clothes.

The path sloped gently upward as it spiraled around the island, following the circle of the lighthouse and taking Ashe along the various wildflowers. “This is… really serene,” she muttered. She didn’t want to break the silence, but at the same time being so calm actually started making her unnerved after a minute. She was so used to feeling tense all the time that not having it was unnatural. “Is this what Kyl’il does?”

Dont, flying next to her, nodded. “Yeah! She wants everyone happy, and safe. It’s why Miss Kyl’il chooses her Guardians, so you can help keep other humans safe.”

Ashe nodded in understanding, then let the quiet overtake them again. They were close to the lighthouse itself now. She expected the beacon to be blindingly bright this close, but it was still only as bright as it had seemed from the shore. A silver railing surrounded the top chamber, and when Ashe tried to reach her hand past it, the air rippled. It felt substantial but flimsy, like cloth. She tapped it again, noticing that each ripple was a different color. “What’s going on?”

Dont glided up, put one hoof into the air, and drew back. With her came the image of a lighthouse’s central area, as if it was just a curtain with a design painted on. Behind it the air shimmered in different colors, a hazy mix of reds and purples and greens. “Just step over the railing, Ashe. It’s a multi-dimensional space… I don’t quite understand how it works, because I’m nowhere near strong enough to make one myself, but it’s perfectly safe to enter her sanctuary for you!”

“Aright, if you say so.” Ashe climbed over the railing and through the haze. It was stifling warm for a moment, but then she was past it. She stood on the wooden floor of a circular chamber, with candles and lanterns floating or hanging in most of the available space. One section of wall held hollows for scrolls, and another was a normal bookshelf, but otherwise it was all light sources, though the room itself still felt dim. The middle section of floor had a beautiful rug with an intricate design on it, and a shining golden orb floated in the center of the chamber, just above a bramble-like nest whose branches seemed to be reaching for it.

The orb looked almost like a map of the city, but something about it was weird, as if it wasn’t defined by landmarks or the city’s actual boundaries. A figure stood before the globe, and she turned to face Ashe as the girl cautiously approached.

“Hello, bright Aesling. I welcome you to my home. I am Kyl’il, spirit of light and flame and all the hope and courage those bring.”

Her skin and hair were dark, but everything else about her shined and flickered. She stood tall like a candle, and just as bright. Her dress was red with gold edging, and translucent golden shawls hung from a sun pendant around her neck, a brown corset over her dress. The dress opened at the bottom, revealing knee-high boots with more shining accents. Except for her slender proportions, the only things inhuman about her were her glowing eyes and the two red horns sprouting from under her hair, between which hung a trio of flickering flames.

“You’re… where I get my power?” Standing before her, Ashe felt an appreciation for the power she held. Kyl’il almost seemed to have a physical aura, and she realized how outstanding it was that someone so clearly beyond humanity cared enough to grant them a protector. She moved into a deep bow, lowering her head. “It’s an honor.”

Kyl’il chuckled, her voice just as warm as the rest of her. “Myself and young Dont, yes. Please don’t be too impressed. It has been a while since I’ve had visitors, and I wanted to make a show of things. It will not be like that every time you come to visit me, and I imagine the novelty of my presence shall wane after a while.”

Ashe looked up, startled. “So even spirits want to impress humans?”

“We wouldn’t exist if not for humans. Why shouldn’t we wish to show you what we’ve built ourselves into after that?” Kyl’il tilted her head to the side with a wistful smile. “And besides that, it’s in my own nature. Fire wishes to be noticed. Why else would it flicker and dance so, or fly through so many colors?”

She frowned, puzzling that over. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Yes. Although I suppose not everything you’ve been told does.” Kyl’il held her arm out, and a golden staff appeared in her hand with yet another orb of fire at its top. She waved the staff, and a few of the standing candelabras moved themselves enough to create room for two chairs, which appeared in a small burst of flame. “Please, let’s sit.”

Ashe stood and followed her over to the chairs, resting just in time for Dont to tumble out of thin air into the room. “Sorry!” the pigbat said. “I wanted to sit and watch the rain for a bit.” She noticed the chairs and flew over to them, settling on Ashe’s lap like a cat. “Did I miss anything?”

“Only introductions,” Kyl’il answered. “Now, what do you wish to know, Aesling?”

One hand settled into a fist against her leg as she remembered her anger from the last few nights, the other absentmindedly stroking Dont’s soft fur as she tried to calm herself down. _Best not to yell at Kyl’il right away, probably._ “There’s another Spirit Thief - he calls himself a ‘Devil Thief’, but his abilities are similar to mine. What’s he doing? Who made him like that? Why am I bothering to purify spirits if there’s someone else out there neutralizing them?”

Kyl’il frowned. “I thought you knew of your purpose - did I not - ”

Dont opened one eye lazily. “You told me not to tell her if I could help it, Miss Kyl’il. ‘No need to worry her with more of my battle than needed,’ you said. ‘Not until I know more for sure.’”

“Oh. I did, didn’t I?” Kyl’il closed her eyes for a moment, sighing. “My apologies, bright Aesling. I lose track of human perspective sometimes.” She motioned around. “I can see almost everything that happens in my city through these; each is tied into a light, or a lamp, both of electricity and flame. Seeing so much makes it difficult to remember what details might be important for me to share or not.”

“Why not tell me everything, then?”

“Because there is a lot that humans have trouble understanding about how we exist, and it can be rough for us to explain. We spirits are beings made of ideas and feelings. It’s easiest for us to communicate directly to each other, because abstracts are all we know at first. But with humans, we have to use words, and even for one that’s been around a while like myself, or someone with a lot of contact like young Dont, it’s difficult.”

Dont nodded in agreement. “Very difficult! I love being around humans and seeing their excitement, but sometimes it’s hard to figure out how you all might understand what I want to say.”

“I see.” Ashe scratched between Dont’s ears. “Sorry for that, then.” She glanced back to Kyl’il. “What can you tell me?”

“You already know about the corrupted spirits. Possessed artworks that prey on humans instead of encouraging their growth - which answers one of your questions. Purifying a spirit means it can still exist and help humanity. This other Thief taking them away means we lose all of the good they can do. And you obviously know Dont, an overall strong but relatively minor spirit.” Kyl’il’s voice flickered as much as as the light around them, steady in tone but fluctuating in loudness. It demanded Ashe’s attention, making sure she didn’t miss anything whenever the light spirit got quieter. “Then there’s those like myself. I am a Guardian Spirit. I am strong enough to create my own space, and to manifest wherever I will in my domain so I can protect it. I protect the city of Braeden, but that’s all. Other Guardian Spirits protect other areas.

“We can fight corrupted and dark spirits directly, those that would harm the humans we choose to protect. But since we exist only as spirits as well, there’s a high chance that we can become corrupted by their attacks. You humans have a physical shell, so even if it’s a spiritual attack it’ll more likely hurt that first, and you can recover from it without your essence being harmed or changed. Hence the creation of Spirit Guardians like yourself.”

Ashe nodded, trying to process all of this. It was a lot of information, but it slowly began to make sense, in a way. “So this Markus guy is a Spirit Guardian made by a Guardian Spirit who doesn’t like you?”

“Not exactly, no.” Kyl’il frowned. “He’s not one of mine, you’re right about that. But the source of his power is not someone like me, not at all. Well, maybe we do share more traits than I’d like to consider.” She glanced towards one of her lanterns, and the flame within it flared stronger for a moment. “Either way, they have no love for humanity or respect for my domain. They think they can rule over it, or make a better world than exists. They’re not purifying corrupted spirits, like you are, but collecting them.” Each sentence resulted in another lantern burning hotter and higher, just for a second

Ashe leaned forward slightly, careful not to upset Dont, who had quickly fallen asleep in her lap. “Collecting?”

“There’s something they want. They need to steal power to achieve that. If you can purify the spirits before they collect them, then that’s one less bit of ammunition.”

“I… see. What if they decide to go somewhere else to collect spirits before attacking here, to get whatever power they want from you?” She’d hoped things could be explained simply, but even with Kyl’il’s straightforward speech her thoughts swirled and flurried like leaves caught in a whirlwind.

Kyl’il shrugged, seeming slightly bemused by the question. “I guess we have to trust other Guardian Spirits to fend them off. I doubt they will roam far from here - they’re somewhat passionate and spiteful, and want me to know how close they’re getting to their goal, I think, or that their ultimate goal is something within my city. I saw your fight with burning Markus. You did well, truly, for not expecting that.” Even with her somewhat casual tone, more of the flames jumped higher. “I didn’t think they would be so bold as to make their own champion. But I know he was plucked from the people currently living within Braeden. Our enemy wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t to snub me and show that they can do what I can, or similar enough.”

Ashe’s mouth twitched, a scowl crossing her face for a moment at the memory of the other Thief. “So I just have to do whatever I can to keep him from getting any more spirits, right?”

“Until I have a plan to stop our enemy, yes.”

“Well then.” Ashe nudged Dont awake, then stood as the pigbat hopped back into the air. “Thank you, Kyl’il… I think I understand it all, or everything that I need to.” She bowed to the spirit again, although this time with a smug grin on her face instead of the pure wonder from earlier. “I’ll purify those spirits for you, and keep that jerk from collecting them.’

Kyl’il rose as well. “I’m glad to hear. It’d be a shame if you decided to stop being a Spirit Thief, with all of your potential. Do you have any other questions?”  
  
She shook her head “I don’t think so, no. Not right now.” But her thoughts were contrary. _Who even is this enemy? Kyl’il seems to know - then again, the lights all flare up with every mention of them. Maybe it’s better not to ask, in case she gets angry about it. Who knows how she’ll react if I press things?_

“Then you should head home. I know you are still a child, really, and have much work to do, but you are welcome here at any time, bright Aesling. I will try to be more mindful of telling you the information I find out, as well.”

“Thank you.” Ashe turned towards where she’d come in before, but wasn’t sure how to leave. “Will the path be there again?”

“It’s probably best if I do not display my power like that again for a while, and keep other humans from approaching here.” Kyl’il pointed to a section of floor, where a trap door suddenly appeared. “That will take you into the lower floors of the lighthouse.”

Ashe nodded and walked over to it, pulling on the ring to open it. A staircase spiraled down around the inside of a column. “Ready to go, Dont?”

“Of course!” The pigbat followed her, after making her own bow to Kyl’il. “I’ll be back soon, Miss Kyl’il! Ashe, careful! I don’t know how sturdy those stairs are anymore.”

She chuckled as she closed the trapdoor behind them. “Okay, okay. I’ll be cautious.”

As they began descending, she could see the walls flicker like Kyl’il’s room had at the top of the lighthouse. She reached out with one hand to the strange imagery, eyes widening as it gave way to a bookshelf at her touch. The illusion rippled, briefly filling the entire lighthouse with shelves, each one containing thousands of tomes. “Are those all actually here?”

Dont flew next to her as she descended, grinning. “In Kyl’il’s space, yes. We can come back sometime for you to look at it all if you want.” She paused, thoughtful. “You’ve only been at this a few weeks, but you’re already a lot better than when you started. More used to this. I know it’s weird for humans to see all this, but you’re barely shaken by it all.”

“Yeah, it is, but… Am I?”

“Yep! A lot more confident and practiced, to say the least.”

Ashe thought about it. Had it really been less than two months? It must’ve been, because she’d just started on the park layout when Dont appeared to her. It still felt so vivid, and so close, a turning point for everything. She absentmindedly crossed her arms, considering.

—

Kelly Garren sat at her desk, distractedly drumming her pencil. Each tap left on a light mark on her paper, already more than covered in doodles and sketches of all shapes and lines and patterns.

There was a contest sponsored by the city to design the new park that was planned for construction. She had all sorts of ideas for it, natural pathways and biking roads all curving through small fields and gallery areas. There were plenty of statues that people were always petitioning for, with a place set aside for display. A wilderness area could be at the edge, separating the main of the park from its parking lot. Or maybe that should be the centerpiece? She frowned, scratching out some of the details she’d marked.

She was so wrapped up in her ideas that it took a moment to recognize a strange scratching noise coming from the window. Cautiously, she stood from her chair and moved towards it. 

Her room was on the second floor, so it couldn’t be just _anything_. Probably a bird or something. Kelly took two hands, sliding the glass up as far as it would go, just as something flew by in a blur from outside.

The strange creature tumbled in through the window, seeming to trip itself mid flight and go rolling across the room before crashing into the wall. Kelly stared at it, unsure of what to do or say (and distantly wondering if she should grab a makeshift weapon) as it got back up, hopping back into the air and turning to face her.

It held one hoof to its head and the other out, as if expecting a handshake or a fistbump or something similar. It spoke softly but cheerfully. “Never Say Dont, pigbat extraordinaire, at your service, ma'am! Sir? I’m sorry, we just met, I shouldn’t be making assumptions - what’re your pronouns?”

“She?” she responded instinctively, then blinked, rubbed her eyes, blinked again, and pinched herself. Before her was a pink-and-black thing with cloven hooves. It had bat-like wings and long ears. Otherwise, it looked remarkably like a pig, covered in soft fur.

“I’m dreaming,” she said, flopping backwards onto her bed. “I fell asleep at my desk, and I’m dreaming up whatever you are.”

“There’s no need for that,” it said in an offended voice, then gave a wry snort. Kelly felt a weight on her mattress as the small creature jumped up next to her. “This is no dream, Kelly Garren. As I said, my name is Dont, and I’m here to help you.”  
  
“Help me with my homework?” She mumbled in a tired tone.

Dont laughed, then stomped a hoof for emphasis. “No! You’ve been chosen to be a Guardian. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is simple: we need your power for the good of the world. Well, more the good of humanity, but it winds up being the same thing in this case, since evil humans do evil things.”

Kelly sat up, green eyes narrowing as she looked at her new companion suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“You’re going to do great things!” Dont looked up at her hopefully. “You have a wondrous power inside of you. There are evil spirits at work in this city, and you have an essence that means you could fight them. If you don’t, a lot of people could be hurt!”

The girl glared half-heartedly at the pigbat. “Great, make me feel more guilty if I say no…”

“You can always go back,” Dont added, gently. “A trial, if you like. I just need something to bind your magic to. A trinket, something you can keep on you at all times.”

Kelly seemed to consider for a moment, before quietly reaching over to her nightstand, and dropped a charm onto the bed. It was small and golden, purple accents in the center, and shaped like a leaf, or a warped clover. “Would this work?”

If Dont had any interest in what the charm was or where it had come from, she didn’t show it. Instead, she gripped it carefully in both hooves, which alit with a growing light. All at once the room exploded in a dazzling radiance. Kelly was blinded for a moment. Then, slowly, her sight returned. Dont nudged the charm forward to her. “Here.”

She picked it up, examining it. The sensation of reality was growing stronger. It certainly felt like a solid item, and a slight buzz of energy danced across her fingers as she held it. “What do I do with this?”

“Picture how you want to be,” Dont explained, her words quick and excited as she bounced in her seat. “How you want people to see you, how you want to be if you’re going to defend something. Then say, ‘ _Pretty Magical Spirit Thief Aesling!_ ’”

“I - what?” Kelly glanced at the little creature. “Are you serious?”

Dont nodded. “Very! It’s a ritual. You don’t cast a spell without words, and you don’t make a potion without all the ingredients. So, get to it! Please, there’s an evil spirit nearby that we should get to before it hurts anyone - ”

“Alright, alright!” Kelly sighed, then closed her eyes. _How do I want to appear? Well, different from how I normally am, that’s for sure. Cool, and mysterious._ She held the pin tightly in both hands. “What was that phrase, again?”

As Dont rattled it off, she repeated it, keeping that image in her mind. _Come to think of it, she didn’t even say what else being a Guardian would entail -_

Her thoughts were cut off as suddenly, the pin grew warm. Lightning danced along her hands, then her arms, consuming her, though she didn’t feel scared. This was warm, and energizing, nothing like the white-hot panic real lightning caused. She felt the tie holding her hair back release, but the fluffy mass didn’t fly into her face like it usually did.

The lightning grew denser, a steady sheet of light over her body, before settling into a form. As it faded, she could feel it becoming clothes - dark shirt and pants, comfortable boots, fingerless gloves, arm bracers, a dramatically heavy green coat with no sleeves.

Cold steel bands clamped onto her arms, around her neck, but they weren’t restraining - more of a buckle, there because she needed it to hold onto things, to hold back. Lastly, a leather strap settled across her torso, the pin attached to it, a belt wrapped around her waist, and a handle of some sort formed in her hand, thrumming with energy.

She looked herself over, and immediately leapt into the bathroom to see herself in the mirror. She was shocked to see her eyes were golden and her hair bleached white, but nodded her confirmation. “I feel… strong,” she said after a moment of studying her reflection. “Like every part of me is super-charged.”

Dont seemed to smirk. “And thus begins the adventures of Pretty Magical Spirit Thief Aesling!” she exclaimed. “Purifier of dark spirits, savior from evil, and all around badass!” She scampered back to the windowsill. “C’mon, let’s test out your powers!”

“Call me Ashe!” she said as she followed after the pigbat. “It’s much less of a mouthful.”

—-

They’d reached the bottom of the lighthouse. Ashe looked up at Dont. “I suppose I have gotten better, haven’t I?” she asked as she opened the door. The downpour was more or less done, though a mist of stray raindrops still fell. “I remember being so startled by you at first.”

“And now we’re best friends!” Dont said as she perched on Ashe’s head.

“Hey!” She reached up and grabbed the pigbat, holding her close. “You’re a bit too heavy for that. But yeah, I suppose we are.”

“And best friends buy each other food, right?”

Ashe wanted to argue, but she couldn’t say no to the pleading look in those eyes. “Well, you’ve yet to buy any food for me… but I guess so. What do you want tonight?”

“Tacos!”

Ashe laughed. “That’s a little random, but fine. Tacos it is. There should be a good place on the way back to my dorm, and I’ll have my wallet again once I transform back.”

Dont kicked her feet happily. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Kelly!”

She paused, not expecting to hear that from her, especially while transformed. “Thanks, Dont. I’m glad, too.”

That night, Kelly slept soundly for the first time in four days.


	5. The Theme

Not technically an episode, but we’ll call it episode 5!

So… here’s a thing I (Elfy) finished before the first chapter of STA was posted, actually, because I wanted to work on it but had nothing to work on. I don’t have the patience for actual animation but here’s an animatic - an animated storyboard - of what the STA theme would look like if it were an actual show. The song is “GO! Fighting Action Power”, by Area 11.


	6. Cops and Robbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happens at the museum that is, surprisingly, not a theft, and Dan has new evidence to show Detective Hartway.

Detective Hartway always set off early for work. It wasn’t that he lived far from the station, he just made a detour every other day to get some muffins and coffee for the other officers in his section of the station from a small cafe and bakery. It started as him just being nice, and now there was an office pool that people put into. Usually it was enough to cover everything, but he didn’t mind taking care of it on his own when need be.

“D’you need anything bagged separate?” the counter girl asked him.

“No thanks, Kara!” Hartway said. “Emily’s on vacation right now, so we don’t have to worry about her allergies for a couple of weeks.” He grinned at her as he dropped some money into the tip jar, then took the box full of drinks and plastic bag with all the pastries in it. “Thanks, though, you’re really nice to think of it.”

She ducked her head, face briefly flushing red. “It’s nothing really. Have a good day, Detective, see you on Thursday!”

“Same to you!” He returned her enthusiasm and then started off towards the station. When he got there, he was a little surprised to see Captain Camberwell at the front desk helping Leon answer phone calls. As far as he knew there weren’t any big emergencies in Braeden right now, but then again, something might’ve happened in the twenty minutes it took him to walk there. He would’ve said hello, but seeing as how they were both busy he just set their drinks and muffins on the counter next to them.

“Thanks a lot, Hartway,” Camberwell said as she put down one phone and ignored it when it started ringing again. She blew her white-streaked hair out of her face, then downed half of her coffee in one long gulp. “Once you check-in and look at your paperwork, come back here.” She took another swig of her drink, then picked up the phone with a small huff. “Braeden Police non-emergency number, how can we help you today?” she said, her voice laced with unusual sweetness. He’d never get used to hearing his commander sound like a customer service rep - thankfully, she rarely dealt with civilians..

He gave a semi-joking salute in acknowledgement, hastening to the elevator. If the Captain wanted to talk with him, he wanted to get through everything else quickly. Making his way around the third floor to deliver everyone’s breakfasts only took him five minutes - would’ve been three if everyone didn’t want to try and catch him up on conversation - and then he was at his desk staring at his daily stack of papers.

Most of it was routine: office memos, a reminder of the city’s yearly Halloween event and that the roulette for who had to work security for it was next week, some quick personal announcements about weddings and vacations and the like. A reminder that it was going to be fundraising season for the various schools so please set aside some money for other officers’ kids. One sheet was a news clipping from that morning about yet another Phantom Thief incident at the museum, which Hartway set aside to add to his case file. The next sheet was just a copy of his latest report, with Captain Camberwell’s signature on it showing she’d seen it. The very last page was just the weekly list of small goodwill errands people always asked the police to look into, making an extra patrol of a certain neighborhood or keeping an eye out for a lost pet and the like.

Detective Hartway finished sorting through it all, then stood up. He’d only been up in the office for twenty minutes. _Hopefully the Captain thought that was quick enough_. He headed towards the stairs, then stopped when he saw two of his coworkers blocking the way as they chatted before clocking in. He started to turn towards the elevators, but one of them slung his arm over the Detective’s shoulders.

“Gregor! Listen, bud, you’ve know Captain Azura longer than most of us here,” he said boisterously. “Do you think she’d enjoy a surprise party for her birthday?”

Hartway bit his lip. “Not really - ” he started, only to be cut off.  
  
“See!” The other officer leaned forward with her hands on her hips, trying to look imposing even though she was half a foot shorter than her companion. “Told you it was a bad idea, Kino. Camberwell hates surprises ever since…” She lowered her voice to a superstitious whisper. “The Old Station Incident.”

Hartway stiffened slightly even as Kino rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Sorry, Zoe.” He looked down at Gregor. “Everything alright bud? You seem in a hurry today.”

“Well, Captain Camberwell did want to see me, so I should go talk to her…”

“Oh!” Kino let go of him. “Sorry about that. Best not to keep the boss waiting.”

“Thanks. See you guys later!” He waved at them as he turned to the elevators, glad to see that one had just dropped someone off and was still on his floor. Back down to the lobby he went, where a handful of other officers had been pulled from their desks to field phone calls and questions from more visitors than usual to this part of the station. “What’s going on?” he asked as he approached Camberwell, who was leaning against the wall a few feet away from the desk.

“Calls from the Melinda Museum.” She looked at him full-on, the old burn scars over one side of her face making her seem intimidating even though she was smiling slightly. She also seemed visibly more relaxed than she had been when he had first walked in, sunglasses sitting high on her head and trademark blue jacket wrapped around her waist. “It looks like something interesting is happening over there.”

Hartway felt his stomach drop. It was never good when the Captain grinned like that - it usually meant more work, at the very least, and trouble at the most. “What kind of interesting?”

“Enough that people have been calling since about six am to tell us about it.” Her grin shifted into a smirk. “And we have to send someone out there. You’re the one working a case there, so you’re going to take care of this, just in case it ties into the Phantom Thieves.”

Hartway nodded. “Yes ma’am! Um, do you have anything more specific for me?”

“All we know is no one is going into the museum, but this is quickly catching interest. You might want to hurry before there’s too many there messing up your scene.” She looked him over. “And please remember not to say anything to any civilians about your investigation.”

He saluted. “Of course! I’ll get everything taken care of and tidied up, and get back to my regular investigation.”

“Good.” She waved him off, and he hurried towards the doors. He wanted to take care of whatever had happened as quickly as possible, before it became something huge.

—–

The outside of the museum was surprisingly busy, especially considering how abandoned it had been as of late. Normally there were a few stray visitors occasionally filtering in and out of the building, but today there was literally a crowd bustling about the entrance. Hartway frowned as he approached, doing his best - but ultimately failing - to keep worry from showing on his face. He’d known to expect more people around than usual, not like this. His footsteps slowed as he wondered if he should start questioning the members of the horde.

Turns out that was a mistake. One of the people turned to look at him, a man with long sideburns and what might’ve been a feathered mullet under a purple-and-blue cowboy hat. “Officer! You’ve been here a lot lately, haven’t you? Got anything to say about the Phantom Thief?”  
  
Detective Hartway squared his shoulders. He didn’t like talking to reporters, usually caught awkwardly in the spotlight and always seeming to say the wrong thing. The three or four times there’d been a reporter hanging around the police station while he was, he eventually wound up being pestered into commenting on something that he probably should’ve stayed quiet about. “There is nothing here to be discussed,” he said, falling on one of the default comments that he’d heard echoed a dozen times by his colleagues. “Please let me through.”

Most of the crowd parted, in spurts and waves of clumsy shuffling as the back groups told the people ahead of them that police were here. A few came over to join the cowboy-hatted guy, and suddenly questions were being thrown at him in rapid fire succession.

“Are you the only officer on this case?”

“How many artworks have been taken total?”

“Are they restorations or replacements?”

“Is this all just a drawn-out PR stunt being done by the curator?”

Hartway shook his head. “I am not discussing this! There is nothing here that is a risk to the general public’s safety, so please disperse and let me through.” He would not break protocol, especially after Captain Camberwell had directly reminded him not to earlier.

The cowboy-hatted man got up in Hartway’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself.” His voice could be called a kind of southern drawl if he didn’t distort it by sounding so smug. “Ballast McGee, reporter correspondent for the Braeden Bulletin. My personal interest in art is only a slight contributing factor to this case, and the public deserves to know - ”

Even if it wasn’t obvious that he was lying, Hartway wasn’t going to say anything to someone working for an obvious tabloid. “Let me through,” he said as commandingly as he dared, his voice shifting from a request to an order.

Thankfully, the reporters finally moved, although Ballast only barely stepped to the side. He held out a flimsy white business card. “Feel free to call me with any information about this case.”

The detective ignored him, brushing past before making his way up to the museum doors. About half of the crowd had wandered off since he had first arrived, but the rest just seemed more intrigued and eager to enter. Hartway wasn’t sure why they weren’t already until he reached the doors. He paused, flabbergasted by the immediately noticeable additions since his last visit less than three days ago.

A line of bells was attached to the top of the doors, making it impossible for them not to jingle when opening it. He could also see a thin rope going from the inside handle to a spot above the frame. He carefully inched the door open, looking up until he could see that there was a bucket of _something_ that would fall on anyone were the door to be pushed open fully. _Possibly flour or some other substance that would leave tracks after being covered in it, considering the white streaks along the sides and the dust on the floor._

Hartway frowned as he closed the door again, ignoring the clattering of the bells. Thankfully, only four or five people remained of the initial crowd, and they were either chattering amongst each other or messing about with their phones. No one accosted him as he headed around to the side of the building until he finally reached the back, stopping at a plain black door marked “STAFF ONLY” in white lettering. A keypad was set into the wall next to it, and Hartway entered in the code Dan had given him.

The lock clicked open and he entered. The hallway was plain white and grey stone with a few doors leading off of it, most of them leading to supply rooms. He’d only been here once during a tour Dan gave him - though it had ended up less of a tour and more the curator standing, pointing, and telling him what everything was. To his credit, Gregor was fairly good at memorizing details quickly - the only trouble was the long stretch of oil spread across the floor for the entire length of the hall. To a thief that struck only while shrouded in the shadows of night it wouldn’t be visible, but with the current fluorescent lighting, Hartway could see it plainly.

The detective sighed and headed down the hall, keeping his footsteps close to the wall where he was least likely to slip. He reached the door that lead to one of the side galleries, then slowly opened it to see what new features that room might have taken on. More bells were on the window set high in the wall, and something that looked like paper with cactus spines was hung up between the various paintings and tapestries. There was also a new camera set up near the window, a very fancy one set inside a discreet black half-sphere instead of the typical blocky sort. It all seemed kind of childish. A kid on the verge of throwing a tantrum about sharing their toys.

Hartway shook his head, closed the door, then made his way down the back hallway towards Dan’s office. His first instinct was to test the handle, but considering the shape of the rest of the place, he thought it best to play it completely safe. He knocked, sharply. “It’s me, Detective Hartway.”

It took a minute for the door to open. The curator looked more worn out than usual, dark bags under bloodshot eyes and his hands twitching slightly. “Took you long enough! I’ve been waiting all day for you!”

“Have you slept at all?”

“Not since yesterday morning.” Dan motioned him in. “But I’ve finally got them! I have a tape, and I know what they can do, I started setting out traps for them - ”

Hartway frowned as he stepped into the cramped but comfortable office, all wooden furniture and woven rugs and full bookshelves. Half a dozen empty coffee cups lay across his desk, and another pile had began accumulating in the garbage can by the door. He opened his mouth to start lecturing about sleep deprivation, but then the curator’s words caught up to him. “Wait, wait, can you go back for a moment? You managed to get a recording?”

Dan nodded, an almost feral grin crossing his face. “I had new cameras installed, and I _finally_ fucking got visual proof of them!”

“Can I see these tapes?”

Dan blinked at him, his usually quick mind taking a long moment to register the question. “Shit, that’s right! I wanted to show you right away! C’mon, the only TV’s in the basement. Just, y’know, watch your step.”

——-

The basement turned out to be a break and living sort of area. They passed through a kitchenette, then a small hallway with five empty rooms and one closed door bearing a nameplate reading ‘Curator’. Hartway supposed they were probably bedrooms, for any higher-up employees that wanted to make themselves available 24/7, if not extra storage or break rooms. It was odd though; he only ever saw Dan, the two people running the ticket desk, and one janitor working. _Does the Melinda Museum even have anyone else working here? It seems like there should be a lot more going on - restorers or research folks looking for new exhibits, security guards, tour-givers. Where are they all?_

“Here we are,” Dan said, interrupting Hartway’s thoughts. He brandished a disc in one hand while he set about turning on the television resting on a short cabinet. “A lot of it is bullshit, but there’s enough here to show of them.” He placed the disc into a DVD player built into the TV, then stepped back so he wasn’t blocking the detective’s view. “No audio, but the video should be enough. It starts with the upper left.”

Hartway sank into a nearby chair, kicking up a small cloud of dust as he began watching the tape. It was the security feed from the previous night, the screen portioned into the view of twelve cameras spread throughout museum, with video quality much crisper than the other videos from normal nights that Dan had on file. The upper left camera focused on the window that was always unlocked after a theft. The timestamp at the bottom read shortly before eleven, and Dan fast-forwarded a bit to midnight. An odd blur appeared at the window, roughly the size of a cat, shortly followed by a green-clad person with a puff of white hair jumping onto the sill and opening the window.

They said something, and the blur moved out of frame. A white whip appeared in their hand - _where did that come from? They didn’t reach for a pocket_ , Hartway thought - before they lashed out at the camera. The view became obscured by something viscous and white before going entirely black, the material itself reminding Hartway of a wad of spiderweb. It didn’t matter much though, as the person left that room. Each time they were in view of another, that blur followed them, and shortly after the blur passed a camera the thief would cloud the view on it with a strike of their whip.

“They must’ve been looking for whatever their mark was,” Dan commented. “Since they ignore almost everything. But here, look at camera ten. Remember me telling you about the empty room?”

Hartway nodded. Usually locked, it was a large blank room set aside solely for big installations - rarely used but always reserved. “You have something you were getting ready to unveil, right?” He looked at the second camera on the bottom row of views. The empty room wasn’t so empty anymore, as multiple birds made of mosaiced glass hung from cords, casting reflections onto the walls even with the bare amount of moonlight from the rest of the museum that made it around the doorframe.

“It’s not announced yet, but we were working with an artist for the first showing of her _Uccelli Scheggiate_. Setup just finished yesterday and we’re designing the ads for the opening. But then this bastard…” He trailed off, eyes focused on the screen.

A cloud of smoke appeared in the room with the birds. A man in a suit stood there, looking around. As he stepped forward, suddenly, the bird figures started flapping their wings.

Hartway blinked - surely he was just imagining that, they were all made of glass! But no, clearly the figures were mobile. He saw one drop away from its hanging cord, and then the camera dissolved into static. “What just happened?”

“Exactly what I’ve been trying to figure out the last two days,” Dan growled. “But there’s obviously two thieves, and the green one must’ve caught up with the other, however he got in there.” He fast forwarded again. “There’s nothing for about three minutes, and then this. Camera six, the main lobby.”

The white stuff blocking the camera’s view disappeared in pieces. A moment later a glass bird soared from the top of it, and it seemed to Hartway as though it might’ve eaten the webbing, if that was at all possible. The black-clad thief was on the ground, tucked into a ball while birds swirled around him. The one in green was on their feet, but had their arms around their head as more of the flock dived at them. They attacked one with their whip, the rope wrapping around it so they could pull it close. There was a green flash of light, and they gently set the bird on the ground, now as still as it had been whilst on display. They kept dodging through the flock, looking around as if they were trying to pinpoint something.

The blonde had less restraint, however. He disappeared in another cloud of smoke - _How?_ \- only to reappear on top of the floor medallion in the center of the lobby. The view shuddered, as if the room were shaking, before the feed cut out completely for five seconds. When it came back, his hand was smoking and multicolored shards of shattered glass surrounded him.

The white-haired thief said something, gesturing angrily. The blonde answered them, but the view was too small for Hartway to try and read their lips. The duo suddenly turned to attacking each other instead of the birds - the man pulled out a sword as he rushed at them. They managed to send him flying, but he smashed another bird as he landed. They stomped their foot when he did, but wasted no time in running after him to press their advantage.

More static, this time jagged lines distorting the screen instead of a field of snow. The birds still dove and attacked the thieves, but the white-haired one dodged them and used their whip to pull the blond’s aim off when he tried to retaliate. They knocked him down again, only for him to land on the largest of the birds - a hawk amongst the flock of sparrows and starlings, watching the action from a corner as if waiting to strike. It flared its wings, but too late, the sharply-dressed thief wrapped his arms around it.

He looked pointedly at the white-haired thief, smirked, and said something. Then he licked the hawk.

The cameras went out as black mist poured away from him. When they came online again, the timestamps read 6 am. In the footage, Dan came from the back hall, only to find piles of glass shards in the front lobby. He ran to the empty room, and opened it to find the surviving bird figures back on their cords, each missing one or both wings.

The curator stopped the video there, and turned to look at Hartway. “Something’s not right here, and I _will_ catch these assholes, then find out just what they’re doing in my museum that all of this can happen!”

Hartway shook his head. This all was strange. Mystifying, even. But there had to be some explanation - some technological aspect of the piece that the artist hadn’t told Dan, something the video’s jumping and cutting had missed since clearly they malfunctioned that night. “Yes, but you keeping your guests and patrons out isn’t going to help. Nor is booby-trapping things. These two were smart enough to mess with your cameras, I doubt they’ll be caught with slapstick sorts of pranks. They’re not brainless thugs.”

The curator’s brow furrowed, his scowl replaced by a confused frown for a second. He then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten under his breath, his normal disinterested glower returning. “You’re probably right, much as I don’t want to admit it. I just hate being powerless to protect my museum.”

“Understandable!” Hartway said, trying to remain cheerful. “But that’s why I’m here, and I’ve already got a plan to start making nightly patrols around here, maybe I’ll catch them on their way in or see a fight starting. For now, though, you should probably go about business as usual.”

“…Fine.” He went to remove the disk from the television, then added, “Help me clean the place up, would you? We’re a bit short-staffed around here.”

Hartway resisted pointing out that cleaning up the curator’s messes wasn’t quite part of his job description, regardless of it being related to the case, and decided he’d rather keep this semi-polite mood around for as long as possible. “Of course, sir.”


	7. Partners in Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A copycat crime leads to an unlikely partnership.

The shadow slowly stalked the rows of the store, admiring each individual glass case before passing onto the next. Gradually, it moved closer to the center, like a circling shark in an open ocean.

It finally reached its prize: a necklace, shining silver, studded and set with a series of glittering green diamonds. Locked behind the same translucent surface as all the others and a tall pedestal beneath it, it set even the thinnest illumination that dared to peek in through the windows fragmenting around the room in a spiral of brilliant emerald light. In front of the glass case was a plaque, inscribed with the name of the necklace -   _“Forest Jealousy”_.

The shadow traced the edge of the glass, hand hovering but a hair’s width away. One of the most perfect, valuable pieces of jewelry in the world… save for a single, major flaw.

A jagged crack ran down the exact center of the centerpiece gem, cutting it into seven distinct shards.

The shadow jolted as a sudden noise cut through the store’s empty silence. It whirled around to face the newcomer - a man stood behind one counter, frozen in fear and dressed in the familiar wear of an employee of the shop. He might’ve hit the silent alarm, he might’ve not. It made no difference to the shadow.

Backlit by the light streaming in from the doorway, the figure’s face remained hidden. The employee saw only the slightest glint in the darkness as its silhouette shifted.

**_BANG! BANG! BANG!!_ **

Police sirens sounded in the distance. A thin red puddle began to seep along the pristine black-and-white tiles of the floor.

Forest Jealousy sat in its case, undisturbed and unchanged…

…save for the pristine gem face that was no longer cracked.

—

Kelly had to push her way through a crowd to even get into the entrance way, more than a dozen busy patrons too busy gossiping to notice the people that actually wanted to see the _exhibits_ of the museum.

It was quieter in the lobby, a small relief, though it was still more populated than she had ever seen it. Wherever the curator was lurking - he was there, she knew, it seemed like he almost never _wasn’t_ \- was somewhere he could keep away from the bustling groups that seemed less concerned with the signs and posters advertising the latest exhibit, and more content to group around a golden dragon statue missing its claws, or a jug in pristine condition, a fish matching its style painted on a nearby wall.

It was silly, foolish even, to come to the museum without Dont. Off doing some sort of chores, she’d been called away to help Kyl’il, leaving only a vague note signed with a sad smiley face. Kelly wasn’t certain that she could notice a spirit when she was… “ _normal_ ”, but if there _was_ one packed along with the new exhibit (as there had been in the past), she had to check, even if it was on her own. She definitely wasn’t letting that _other_ thief get one up on her.

Kelly did wish her pigbat friend was there, if only to provide a bit of mental comfort amidst the bustling crowd, although anyone nearby would think she was crazy and talking to thin air. She shook her head. _You’re here for a reason. Get to it and stop wallowing!_

She was distracted again, though, when that same crowd began to part like the sea, the busy chatter of the room crashing into a low, whispering hum - she cursed her own short stature as she stood on her toes to see over everyone’s heads, then gave a half-grin half-grimace as she recognized the lone figure.

She had no time to decide on her course of action before he spotted her. “ _Red!_ ”

By the time he finally reached her, everyone else had returned to their own business. “Hi, Gregor. What are you - oh, you’re working here on a case now, right?” She feigned ignorance.

“Yep.” Hartway smiled. Behind him, she saw the curator skulk out of his office, head low, and disappear into the mob. “I was just stopping by, though. Getting called to a jewelry store downtown - the thief’s struck some places outside the museum before, but this time…” He looked around for a moment, eyeing the nearby patrons distrustfully before leaning in and adding in a low tone, “There was a _murder_.”

At her shocked look, he shook his head. “I don’t know what to make of it, though I don’t think it was the same thief. They cause destruction, maybe, but they’ve been… careful? Cautious? I don’t want to think it was them. And if it was… this case might just be beyond me working on my own.”

Uncertain as she was, she gave his arm (what she hoped was) a comforting squeeze. “I’m sure if anyone can figure it out, you can. Even if it is ‘beyond’ you, you’re the one in charge of the case right now. It’ll be up to you to help figure the rest out and get everyone else up to speed.”

Hartway looked at Kelly and gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Red.”

“No problem.”

“Hey, we’re not going to keep running into each other all over town… Wanna swap phone numbers? We can keep in touch, or catch up sometime. There’s a great new coffee shop on Main. Maybe bring Wren along.”

“Sure.” As she fumbled through her backpack to find a spare scrap of paper and a pencil - _Not that one, it’s got some good designs on it. Or that one, those are my notes for English_ \- Hartway seemed to realize something.

“So, why’d you stop by the museum? Not giving in to all the ‘Phantom Thief’ stuff they’ve been posting in the tabloids, are you?”

“No, of course not.” To her surprise, her voice stayed calm, despite the rising panic in her chest. Her actual reason of seeing the new exhibit was a perfectly normal cover, but before she could vocalize it her eyes caught on her backpack and a more elaborate tale was already spilling out of her mouth. “Assignment for art class. To come in and give an interpretation of an exhibit here, and there’s the new one so I thought I’d stop by and have a look.”

“Ah. I hope you do well, then!” He said, watching as she hastily and clumsily scrawled her cell phone number onto a scrap and handed it to the detective. He handed her his own back, and then inspected the one he’d been given. “I haven’t seen you in at least five years and your handwriting is still as terrible as ever.”

Kelly rolled her eyes and huffed in mock offense before asking, “Don’t you have a crime scene to be getting to or something?”

“Oh, that’s right! Later, Red.” He turned, gradually beginning to push his way back through the crowd. She waved to him, any words she could’ve added sure to be lost over the din, and he waved back.

When Kelly finally lost sight of the detective, she continued her ascent into the upper reaches of the building. He’d mentioned a jewelry store, and there were only a handful downtown, if it wasn’t already on the local newspaper’s website. She was still determined to test her luck with the new artwork, but come sundown, she was certain what she had to do.

There was a crime to investigate.

—

The store’s sign lit the parking lot, large white letters like a brilliant beacon in the night’s clouded sky. Ashe cautiously approached it, keeping an eye out for any security guards or police officers, though the building seemed to have been left as rightfully abandoned. The parking lot itself was empty, the lights inside the store turned off.

“‘Borealis’.” She scoffed. “More like ‘Faust’s’. You’d need a deal with the devil to afford even the cheapest thing in there.”

“You called?” A familiar voice sounded behind her. She resisted the urge to spin around instantly and instead moved to summon her whip, a twinge of energy that surged in her hand and brought the handle into her grasp, the cord growing from its end like a sprouting flower. Slowly, she turned to face him, and gave it the slightest flick, as if she were a matador at a bullfight.

He continued to smile, sharp teeth glinting in the sign’s light, though there was something about his expression that felt off to her. “And before you ask, no, it wasn’t me. _I’m_ not that sloppy.”

“And you already know it wasn’t me because I’m too much of a goody two-shoes.” She rolled her eyes.

“That,” he took a couple steps forward, “and also the fact that if there’d been a spirit here last night, I would’ve been here, too.”

“Whoever it was knew how we operated, and knew our style. Like those guys on crime shows who imitate serial killers with the hope of flying under the radar.” Ashe looked him up and down. “Here to investigate, like I am?”

Markus huffed, pointed tail flicking in annoyance. “Hardly. I just don’t want to get _upstaged_ by some no-named lowlife that thinks that committing crimes in the Phantom Thieves’ names is going to work out.”

“Phantom _Thieves?_ ” The phrasing reminded her of the time she’d dug too deep into local websites. There had been theories, she knew, of multiple MO’s meaning multiple people - that the destruction they left behind could be signs of conflict, not malice; or even that there was a tape of some sort, recorded proof, though she doubted it for more reason than one. The media loved to stir that sort of stuff up.

He looked almost nervous, an uncertain glance that he gave her for but a moment, before offering a clawed hand. “What say you and I make a deal? We team up and stop this copycat, together, and then go our separate ways.”

“What, the Devil Thief wants to do some good for once? And that he _can’t handle it on his own?”_ Her own words echoed back to her. _A deal with the devil…_

“You already heard what I said. In or not?”

The two stared at each other for a long moment, before Ashe finally took his hand. She noticed with quiet interest that, though his claws could’ve easily stabbed into her arm as either threat or promise, he made no move to do so.

He glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow, though he still maintained his uncaring expression. “Where’s Hedwig? I thought the flying rodent wasn’t ever far from you.”

For the sake of teamwork, she tried not to bite back too angrily. “None of your business.” Her voice still sounded tense.

“If you say so.” He shrugged. “I just figured you’d want to stay on an even playing field, but either you’re stupider than I thought, or just plain overconfident.”

“Says the one who _lost_ during our first encounter.”

His smirk settled into a scowl. “And who’s _won_ every time since then.”

_Every time being what, two times, maybe three?_ she thought, but again bit her tongue. Before the silence had a chance to become uncomfortably long, she spoke up. “So, how are we going to start this? We have no clue where they could’ve taken the necklace. Or even if they still _have_ it.”

“We could break into the police station and - ”

“No.”

“But - “

“It’d just incriminate us even more.”

Markus huffed, but didn’t argue further. “Do you have any bright ideas, then?”

“It… we don’t know if it was a spirit or not. Let me try something.” She changed her stance, like she was about to enter combat, balancing carefully, and then began to focus. She hadn’t tried removing a binding since her first encounter with Markus, but if she poked ever so slightly at the magic running just beneath her skin…

She felt one of her armlets drop off, and a sudden rush of energy filled her. Ashe slowly opened her eyes, pointedly ignoring Markus’ interested look. She took a couple steps forward, peering into Borealis’ windows, and focused again, this time attempting to channel the newly released power into her eyes.

The world flickered, like a television screen with a lousy signal, before small shapes started to form against the darkness, most notably a set of flames along the ceiling where the lights would be. There was also a small white ball, starting in the center of the room, glowing an ethereal white that lead through the door and off into the distance.

Ashe could feel the beginning of a headache starting and she blinked, trying to move her focus away from the spirit’s trail and the flickers of a few other flames at the edge of her vision. She shook her head, the white light fading, and looked over to Markus. She pointed in the direction the trail had been heading - south, down the road. “The necklace _was_ a spirit. A small one, though, not one powerful enough to be of any note to us. It went that way.”

“I have to admit, I’m somewhat jealous of how you looked while doing that.” He had his arms crossed over his chest, and he wasn’t looking directly at her now that she was talking to him again.

“What happened?”

He traced two circles in the air. “Your eyes started glowing. Kinda like flashlights.”

“And you actually thought I looked _cool?_ ” It seemed more silly to her.

Markus scoffed. “Don’t mistake my impeccable sense of style for a compliment.”

She rolled her eyes back at him. “Let’s get going. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

“What, you don’t enjoy spending time with me?”

“I swear, Markus - “

“I’m honored that you remembered my name, Aesling.”

“You can call me ‘Ashe’ if ‘Aesling’ is too long, you know. I wouldn’t want you to strain your brain or anything.”

They stood, and simply stared at each other, Ashe glaring daggers and Markus grinning knives. Wordlessly, she spun on her heel and began walking. A moment later, she heard her “companion” follow after.

—

“That must be them,” she murmured as the duo peered in through the warehouse’s only skylight. The empty room stretched out beneath them, dust and boxes hiding most of the cement floor. Two lone lights lit the room, and a single silhouette was plainly visible within. Tracking the necklace had left her with a dull headache, which was not improved by Markus’s constant snarky comments.

“It’s right there.” He pointed down towards the shadow, and sure enough, Ashe could see the green shimmer the necklace made as the grimy light struck it and reflected onto the walls. Markus grinned, holding up his claws. “So, let’s maim him and get this over - “

“ _What?_ ”

“What?” Markus rolled his eyes. “Alright. Fine. ‘Teach him a lesson’. Whatever other mobster-esque euphemism you’d prefer.”

“I don’t like him either, but _maiming_ him is not the solution. Again, we want the police _off_ of our backs.”

“Spoilsport.” Markus pouted, though his expression was quickly replaced by another grin. “Would incapacitating him be okay?”

At least he was listening to _some_ logic. “In a non-lethally and also non-life-crippling manner, yes.”

“Great!” He winked and gave her a two-fingered salute before vanishing with a sharp _crack_.

“Markus!” She hissed, reaching out with one hand to grab him, though by then it was already too late and she simply grasped emptily at smoke. Her hands balled into tight fists, nails digging hard into skin as she grit her teeth. “That idiot.”

In the darkness below she saw the slightest flicker of light and a tailed outline appear for a moment before being swallowed back up by shadows. The burglar didn’t look like he’d noticed, those his expression was masked by the rim of a hat, its color lost amongst the bright light of the warehouse.

_How do I get down there?_ she glanced hastily around the space, trying to think of some sort of solution. _Stealthy or fast, pick one._

Something flickered on the edge of the light’s reach. The man turned his head to whatever it had been and quickly stuffed the necklace away, though Ashe already had a sneaking suspicion as to the movement’s source.

“Damn it all,” she finally decided and slammed the heel of her boot down hard on the frame supporting the skylight. She wouldn’t expect it to work normally, but the extra strength without a binding would be enough. The glass on either side shattered, broken pieces falling like rain onto the world below. The man looked up at her, so she moved quickly.

With a flick of her wrist, the end of her whip wrapped tight around the surprisingly unbroken frame. She took a breath, as if she were only stepping into a pool, and then jumped.

When she reached the end of her downward arc, hurtling fast across the room, she focused, and her whip vanished. Ashe tucked into a roll, dust kicking up beneath her as she was propelled across the cement floor, then came to a halt in a combat-ready crouch only a few feet from the behatted man.

He didn’t look afraid, like she expected, or even confrontational. He simply seemed bemused, reaching into a cobalt blue jacket pocket with a sly, unwavering grin that reminded her of -

Markus appeared from the darkness, shadows trailing from his hand as he punched the man hard in the jaw. The man was not to be deterred - though he hit the floor, he still fumbled and drew a weapon from his pocket with one hand.

**_BANG!_ **

The shot missed Markus’ head by inches, though he vanished in a puff of smoke anyway, and the hatted man winced as the gun recoiled awkwardly in his grip. The strike had left a dark purple stain on his face, like a bad bruise. The Devil Thief, reappearing on a nearby shelf, simply narrowed his eyes and growled.

Ashe summoned her whip back to hand, wrapping the end of it around the firearm’s barrel and pulling tight. It crumpled in a manner that reminded her of the old security cameras. The man’s grin faded as she flicked her wrist, pulling the handgun from his grasp and sending it skittering across the floor a few feet away.

Markus jumped down from the shelf, not even bothering to teleport, before grabbing the man’s head in his claws and slamming it unceremoniously into the ground. He was out cold.

“Well, that was easy.” At Ashe’s look, he sighed. “Come on, it should only be a _short term_ concussion.” He glanced down. “And a nasty nosebleed. Give me a break.”

“…Fine.” She looked at the behatted man, then crouched over him and began rifling through his pockets.

“What are you _doing?_ ”

“Checking that he doesn’t have any more weapons to surprise us with, and - “ She produced the necklace with a flourish and a smile. “I was looking for _this_. Returning it in one piece is more than enough proof that we didn’t do it, though I’m sure the gun that helped him commit the crime and the criminal himself will help.”

“So now what? Just drag him to the police station and leave him on their doorstep?”  
  
“What else?” She frowned. “Can you find something to bind his hands with? I mean, they _should_ have someone there at all hours but I’d rather not take the chance.” Ashe stood back up. “And I figured we could leave a note or something just letting them know that it was us.”

Markus looked to the shelves, and Ashe got the chance to examine them for the first time.

Piles upon piles of assorted hardware, screwdrivers and hammers abound. It was if someone had run a woodshop out of their garage and needed someplace else to store all of the supplies. There was also a few sets of stones, some broken into pieces and others lopsided, but also a good many that looked close to the necklace. The hatted thief had clearly practiced for a while at crafting his forgery.

Her companion picked up a few different items, before tossing them to the side and moving on. Twine, string, yarn, cord, thread… Finally, he produced a length of rope and tossed it to Ashe.

“A note? And sign it with what?”

Ashe shrugged as she put the man’s hands behind his back and attempted to tie them together, fumbling with the rope and muttering something under her breath before replying, “‘The Phantom Thieves’? Or use the other names in the paper, maybe?”

“The names in the papers are stupid,” Markus all but whined. “You sound like a character out of a fantasy novel and I’m named after what the journalists themselves fear most.”

“What, do you want to be ‘the other thief’, then? ‘The Time-Turner’s enemy’, or ‘accomplice’, or what have you?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m also under the impression you _want_ others to be afraid of you.”

“Which hardly helps when you sound like a B-Movie supervillain.” He sighed. “Fine. But we’re each doing one. I’m certain the things we want to say are very different.”

“Sounds good to me.” Aesling stood up once more, the man’s wrists and feet both now properly bound. “So… how do we get to the police station? It’s a good twenty blocks away. Are you going to help me carry him?”

The Devil Thief considered for a moment, before grinning slyly. “Grab the rope around his wrists.”

“…Alright.” She tentatively took hold, whip still held tightly in her other hand. “Now wh - “

Markus grabbed her shoulder, and in the same moment the world twisted. A burning hot flame seemed to dance over her skin, only to be extinguished by the cool, creeping darkness that took its place. It gripped her tightly, an aching pressure that moved through her veins, before the universe seemed to spit her back out into existence.

Ashe stumbled, almost, though she didn’t even take a step. The floor wavered, as though it were holding her uncertainly, and with a jolt she realized that it was her head that was, in fact, spinning, and not her surroundings.

She let go of whatever she was carrying so she could put both hands on her head and groaned. There was a quiet _crack_ as the hatted man hit the floor, again.

She blinked, looking through her fingers at him. “Whoops.”

Markus, meanwhile, sat half-crouched over. His legs were shaking, and his eyes were closed, tail wavering to support his balance. “Way too much. I am never doing that _again_ ,” he snarled.

The two waited for a couple minutes before Markus could manage to stand back up on both feet. He looked to the man. “You take his wrists, I’ll take his legs?”

Ashe felt recovered enough to try, at least. “Sure.”

—

The man lay on the cold sidewalk of the side street. Each of the notes the pair had written were placed in one pocket, along with Forest Jealousy. Though they’d left the gun behind, Ashe had also included the address of the warehouse with the notes, in hopes of gathering further evidence to exonerate them.

As she turned to look up and down the road for the millionth time, double-checking that no one was going to surprise either of them, it happened.

Something struck her in the back, hard and painful. Ashe gave a yelp as she was knocked to the ground, her whip almost thrown from her grasp as she let go of it on instinct. She landed sideways, her back alight with a burning sensation, felt through her clothing and even her skin, as if it was trying to attack her core. The thief reached one hand for the spot to be sure there wasn’t a serious wound and felt nothing “off” there, though her touch did seem to dull the pain somewhat. She attempted to prop herself up on one arm, shaking slightly as the adrenaline rushed hard through her veins. Spots danced around her vision.

“And now that our deal is over…” Ashe could see a blurry black shape out of the corner of her eye, and a clawed hand reached down and wrapped around the handle of her whip. “I’ll be taking this. You rely on it far, far too much, Ashe.” She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear his smile in his incredibly smug tone.

“You… bastard.” She managed to hiss through clenched teeth.

There was the sound of moving fabric, heard clearly in the quiet emptiness of the night, as (Ashe assumed) he shrugged. “No partnership lasts forever, and what kind of Thief would I be to not take advantage whenever an opportunity arises?”

There was the jingling of metal, and Ashe bristled further. “Plus, I’m sure the boss’ll appreciate a baby spirit for a gift. Even if it does come with some jewelry attached.” He gave a low, ominous chuckle.

“I’ll see you around, Ashe. Say hello to the _rat_ for me.” There was a sharp pop, and the air around her reverberated with the dying echoes of Markus’s haunting laughter.

—

Two scraps of paper sat in plastic bags, labels adorning them both. _Evidence_.

Half a dozen other bags surrounded them, but it was only those two he seemed to care about. Hartway picked up each one and read them over again, though by this point he’d had them more than memorized.

The first one was written in an angry scrawl, each of the looping letters digging hard into the paper.

_This serves as much as a lesson as it does a threat. Lay off the case, lay off the press, and let it be known that anyone who tries anything like this again won’t be as lucky at this poor fellow here._

_Imitation is one thing, and murder is another - not to mention if I’d committed the crime, I’d hardly be careless enough to get caught._

_This is your first, and only warning._

_The Editor, Phantom Thief_

The next was… sloppy, to put it gently. Awkwardly blocked letters, the author’s usual pace having clearly slowed down in an effort to create a much more legible font.

_This is the guy that looted Borealis. He should have Forest Jealousy on him. His gun’s broken, though it might be the same one as he used to kill the clerk. I attached the address of his hideout as well._

_We might cause damage, intentionally or not, but we don’t hurt civilians. At least, I don’t._

_Yours,_

_Time-Turner, Phantom Thief_

The necklace hadn’t been on his person, though the thief seemed to honestly think it would. Had one of them betrayed the other? That didn’t seem as important to the detective as the writing itself.

Hartway stared at the Time-Turner’s signature. Something about it seemed familiar. “Could… no, that’d be ridiculous.” _I think I need more sleep. Maybe a patrol day, to refresh myself from working so much on this. I’m sure the other detectives said that’s something I could do, and if I’m reaching this far I definitely need it._

Still, the slightest suspicion grew in the back of his mind as he placed the bags back on the table, and left to report to Camberwell.


	8. I Never Did Like Jewelry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelly can’t transform while a new weapon is being bound to her pin. She instead throws herself into helping her friends plan for Halloween. She can last one or two days without transforming… right?

Kelly woke up slowly, not fully grasping where she was. Her limbs seemed out of place and her tongue felt like cotton. She blinked back sleep from her eyes and when she fully came to her senses, she realized she was sleeping on her stomach, her face buried in her pillow. Turning over, the dull pain quickly reminded her why she felt so horrible - having a binding broken most of the night, Markus backstabbing her. Of course she was exhausted.

She got out of bed slowly, and twisted around in front of the mirror to look at her back. There was still a burn there, ragged and dark, sitting right between her shoulder blades. She tried to get ready for what remained of the day, but kept going back to look at her injury. “I try to act reasonable and work together for one time, and what does he do? Damn asshole needs to fuck off,” she grumbled the fourth time she twisted around to look at it in her mirror. At the least the burn didn’t hurt anymore, save for the light sting when she reached to touch it. It was morbidly fascinating, a wound that stuck around even after she transformed back.

Dont, sitting on her desk, shook her head. “At least it’s not worse! Going off on your own - I mean, it’s amazing that you’ve progressed enough to track spirits on your own, but…” She kicked at Kelly’s pencil holder, a rare show of frustration. “I still wish I was there to keep an eye on you.”

Despite her annoyance, a small smile lit Kelly’s face. She walked over and patted Dont on the head. “It’s alright. I’m alive, and I can still fight.” She scowled. “Except that fucker took my whip! I don’t have magic attacks like he does, not without releasing bindings, and even just the one from last night still has me tired. How am I supposed to stand a chance?”

“Actually…” Dont looked over to Kelly’s pin, sitting on the desk next to her. “I think we have a spare. It’s not as much of a tool as the whip, just a weapon, but Miss Kyl’il should be able to help me bond it to your transformation, Ashe.”

“Really?” She picked up her pin and felt the current of warmth that always ran through it. It calmed her a little. “Why couldn’t both be on it from the start?”

“It’s my fault,” Dont admitted. “Most of what you get is from me, with Miss Kyl’il’s powers making up the difference. She’s trying not to interfere so much. I’m not strong enough yet to grant you two weapons, and if Miss Kyl’il stepped in to add that much then she’d be your main power.”

“That’s nothing that’s really your fault,” Kelly said. “At least, I don’t think so? You’re trying. But why are you my main - source? Patron? What do I call what you do?”

“Guardian?” Dont shrugged lazily. “I mean I’m not a Guardian Spirit, technically, but that’s what I’m aiming for, and…” She paused, raised a hoof to bonk herself on the head. “Sorry, I should just answer what you’re asking! I’m trying to be better about that. Um. The last Spirit Thief before you, she died because Miss Kyl’il was too busy keeping an eye on things in the city to help her out. She hadn’t retired yet, not fully, so Miss Kyl’il blames herself somewhat.” Her voice was somber, her words more measured than usual. “If I get strong enough to make Spirit Guardians on my own, then I can focus on keeping my eye on you, and Miss Kyl’il can watch over the city itself. I’ll take care of the trees, and she’ll aid the forest, in other words. And hopefully we can help you keep an eye out for any danger that comes!” Her ears went back against her head. “Or at least, I hope so.”

Kelly picked her up, letting the pigbat cuddle into her shoulder. She wanted to ask about the previous Spirit Guardian, but didn’t want to make Dont dwell on something that obviously pained her. “Well, I’m glad for whatever you two can manage.” She sighed. “So, you think you can replace my weapon?”

Dont nodded. “Yep! But you’ll be without your transformation for a day or two, so you have to promise not to go looking for trouble!”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I _wanted_ that all that stuff to happen while you were gone. But yeah, that’s fine I guess. It’s just - what if another spirit shows up? Markus is guaranteed to get it!”

“It’s a risk we have to take, to make sure you can still fight. Plus, the replacement isn’t something that can be corrupted, not by just taking it, so he definitely won’t be able to steal _that_ from you.”

Kelly nodded as she set Dont down. “Alright.” She was about to say something else, but there was a knock at her door. Dont dived under her bed - even though it was unlikely any of Kelly’s fellow students could see her - and Kelly quickly pulled on a tank top before opening it. “Yeah?”

Aeva, Eileen, and Selena stood in the hallway, the first two bearing grins and Selena somewhat concerned. “You weren’t in class again today,” Selena said. “We were worried about you.”

“And wondering if you want to go shopping!” Aeva added, her heavy eye make-up causing her smile to seem menacing instead of inviting. “As a pick-me-up or something.” She kept shifting her weight from side to side, and looked like she might actually giggle. Kelly had forgotten that going out shopping could make her grim friend like this.

Eileen nodded in agreement. “It’s just for decorations for the school’s Halloween party, but we thought you might want to, if you weren’t sick. Plus, I just got my allowance from my dad, so I could probably help with anything we just want to get for ourselves, too.”

“Point being,” Selena said pointedly, placing her hands on the others’ shoulders, “is that we were worried about you and wanted to see how you were.”

Kelly smiled. “Yeah, I’m alright. I just didn’t sleep well and missed my alarm is all, and decided by the time I woke up to just take a personal day. Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll totally come with you all.” She shut the door briefly, and re-emerged in jeans and with a zip-up hoodie over her tank.

“…But what if there’s nothing at the main shops, I’m telling you, we need to hit up the craft alley shops - “ Aeva stopped as she saw Kelly emerge. “You’re wearing normal clothes on a Thursday! Who are you and what have you done with our friend?”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “I just don’t like wearing more than one outfit in one day,” she grumbled. “I hadn’t put on my uniform, so I wanted to wear normal stuff.”

Selena slung her arm around the redhead’s shoulders. “You really should reconsider that. None of the rest of us stay in our school clothes.”

Eileen cleared her throat, tugging on her sleeves. “I do.”

“You’ve at least got that sweater, though. Even if it is garishly bright,” Aeva answered. “Kels never wears anything different. Speaking of, where’s your hairpin? I don’t think we’ve seen you without it in the last few weeks.”

Kelly tugged on a bit of her hair. “It’s, um. I didn’t feel like fussing with anything,” she said. “I mean, don’t you guys want to get going? You seem especially peppy about it, Neon.” It was hard not to tease her return to her old behavior.

Aeva placed her hand over her heart, her voice getting steadily louder. “Kelly, _why?_ You know that name just utterly destroys my soul. It creeps up on me and suffocates my very being. I expect it from Lenny, but from you? You have become darker than even me.”

Eileen rolled her eyes and stepped forward, grabbing Aeva’s arm as she passed and starting to drag her along. “Please, enough with the dramatics. We know you’re done with your weeb phase, all of us are, let’s just go burn through this money before it burns a hole in my pocket.”

Selena chuckled to herself as she followed them. “At least Neon’s a better old nickname than Moonpie. Yours at least you can come up with a cool reason for, like that you were stylish with your clothing accents or something. Mine’s always gonna be silly.”

Kelly hurried after her friends, grinning as well. It’d been a pretty long while since she’d been out with them, and this might be just what she needed after last night’s loss and the birds the week before.

—–

Finding decorations was surprisingly difficult. It was only a week before Halloween, and all of the main stores were already sold out of anything that wasn’t extremely cheesy or elementary schoolish: colored napkins and stringy fake cobwebs and plastic jack-o-lantern buckets.

“Ugh!” Aeva collapsed onto a bench after leaving the third seasonal store they’d visited. “This is so annoying. I just want to express our creepiest holiday in all the best ways possible, but nothing expresses it right! I knew we should’ve gone to the crafters’ alley.”

“We can still go,” Selena pointed out. “A quick cut through the art district, and we’ll be there. We still have time.”

“It’s almost six,” Eileen said. “Most of those small places might be closing up by now.”

“I’d think they’d be open until eight?” Kelly shrugged. She didn’t feel like looking at more stores, but knew they shouldn’t go back empty-handed. “It’s worth a try though, right?” _And I could see if there’s anything new announced for the museum to watch out for._

Eileen sighed. “I guess that’s true. Although the mom-and-pop stores might be more focused on lanterns and stuff for the Spook Day part of the celebrations and not about the costumes and creepy things. Can we hurry up, though? I have a book I want to finish tonight.”

Aeva perked up a bit, though she ignored Eileen’s last comment. “Actually, that might be better! I mean, sure, there’s gonna be lots of lanterns, but you also need creepy things for the lights to scare off right? And they might be scarier than typical spiders and skeletons and all that stuff. That’s, like, right up with what I want to find.”

As they all set off again, Selena couldn’t help but cross her arms over her chest. “You three really need to spend more attention on Braeden traditions. Spook Day is more about scaring away shadows than anything specific, symbolic representations of what might chase us closer to death. To that end, most locally-owned businesses stay open longer around this time of year, to provide safe spaces to any late travelers as evil demons and such gain more power to appear in the physical world. And, if they’re lucky, the Lantern-Bearer will appear to them sometime before the end of October, and grant them luck for the whole year.”

Kelly blinked. She wasn’t a Braeden native and hadn’t heard any of that before, really. _It’s obviously something to do with Kyl’il being nearby,_ she thought. _It certainly sounds like her._

“Do adults actually hold to that, though?” Eileen asked. “I haven’t thought about any of that since grade school.”

Selena shrugged. “That, or they don’t want to lose business to their neighbors staying open later than them for the month.”

The conversation delved into economics for a minute after that, and that somehow wound up talking about boys before rounding to schoolwork and then a movie that was coming out soon. Kelly didn’t participate much, stopping briefly as they passed the bulletin board announcing new exhibits and shows in the art district. There was a set of outdoor water clocks coming to the engineering museum, and a cover group of some old boyband at one of the theatres, as well as a reminder about the local production of Phantom of the Opera. Crushed into the corner was something unofficial, some private notice to art collectors from a “security technician”, whatever that meant. Finally, her eyes found a flyer with the Melinda Museum’s crest, announcing a weapons exhibit that would be on display in about a month. _That could be definitely be dangerous. I’ll have to be careful._

“Kels!” Aeva had noticed her lagging and backtracked to get her. Eileen and Selena waited at the end of the block. “C’mon, I know you love this stuff as much as I want to let shadow envelop and consume me, but we have to hurry if we’re going to find some good decorations.”

Kelly let herself be pulled along. “You look the part, but you are not nearly dramatic enough to be a traditional goth,” she couldn’t help saying. Aeva’s stunned face made her laugh. “Unless you feel insulted, I guess.”

“Jerk. I hope maggots set a new speed record devouring you,” Aeva muttered in response, but Kelly saw a small smile on her face as she ducked her head.

They caught up with Selena and Eileen, then cut around the smaller galleries at the start of the art district until they reached an area with a bunch of buildings crowded together. Years and years ago, Selena told them, this had been a main street - back when the old lighthouse was still close to the docks. Eventually, development elsewhere meant the businesses weren’t as major anymore, and many had been bought by creative sorts drawn by the art district. Now it was full of bookshops and cafes, antique stores and hobby shops, and a dozen other things like them.

“You really do know a lot of local history,” Kelly said, wishing she could introduce Selena to Kyl’il. “It’s amazing.”

“My family was one of the founding twenty,” she explained. “It’s kind of what I’m supposed to do.”

“Look, we can talk about history another time - let the dust of the dead bury us later,” Aeva interrupted. “But for now we have decorations to pick out!” She led them further into the crafters’ alley, eventually stopping at a black-walled building with stone stairs leading down to a basement entrance. “Here we are. Tf we can’t find what we need here in Lower Keep, we won’t ever.” She led them down to the door and opened it, Selena seeming a little hesitant but Eileen and Kelly each curious about the place.

Inside looked like somewhere that Aeva might go to for everything she wore. The walls were covered in dark cloth, and wooden shelves stood before them with a solidness that demanded respect for whatever they held. The items on display ranged from witch crystals to rune sets to books to novelty items (like a wooden cup carved into a skull). The lighting was dim, small lamps hanging from the ceiling barely letting customers see the color of the floor.

“This is interesting,” Kelly whispered.

Aeva turned around to look at them. “I _know!_ Isn’t it great?” She wandered away, leaving her friends standing there nervously before deciding to follow. They found her at a counter off to the side, chatting with a blue-haired man about what they needed.

“If you’re looking for decoration stuff, try the back. We have bolts of cloth for sale - some really nice meshy ones that look like really thick cobwebs, nothing like those rope ones at the seasonals,” he said. “And some kits for making paper lanterns if your school does Spook Day as well as Halloween, or some set pieces. There’s a record that plays chittering and rustling noises. Help yourselves, and even though it’s not just for you, I’ll still give you your discount.”

Aeva grinned. “Thanks so much, Luis! You’re really becoming my favorite old bat.”

Luis shrugged. “Least I can do for my most common customer.”

Aeva turned to head towards the back of the store, not even checking if everyone was following her. She gleefully pointed out most of the things they passed on the way. “We could use some of these stencils over the lanterns to make them things like skulls or reaching hands, and that garland with the purple flowers could be twisted into a wreath if we get some red fabric to make it look all bloody…”

“If we get everything from here the school might actually be able to reuse it next year,” Eileen said. “That’ll give us some notoriety.”

Kelly looked between them. “This was your idea wasn’t it? Getting all four of us as the decorating committee or whatever?”

Selena laughed. “Something like that, yeah. The seniors were totally ready to let us handle it, and the teachers don’t care so long as it gets done. Technically it’s just those two, but they invited me to help and then it was like why not include you?”

“Oh.” Kelly’s face tinged red. She sometimes forgot that being friends meant they’d do nice things for her, like include her in things. “Thank you. Sorry I’ve been so flakey lately.”

“Eh, it’s alright. Bound to happen to one of us sooner or later,” Selena pointed out. She paused, looking at something on a high shelf. Kelly stepped back for a better view,, trying to follow her taller friend’s gaze without much luck - there was too much stuff. Eileen and Aeva continued on, their debate about just how explicitly creepy to get becoming muffled.

“What is it?” she asked, seeing something sitting on a velvet-covered section of the self glitter briefly.

“It’s gorgeous.” Selena stood on her toes and reached up, lifted a necklace from the shelf. It was heavy at the front, turquoise stones stuck together like rocks alongside a river before forming a single strand to the sides and back. On the cluster at the front was a silver snake, curved as if it was slithering across the stones. “Don’t you think so?”

Kelly shrugged. Something about it didn’t seem right to her - or maybe she was just projecting after the incident last night. Fancy necklaces might always be something she disliked from now on. _Although_ … “It would suit you, considering your affinity for blue reptile stuff,” she admitted.

“Yeah, but I doubt I could pay for it.” Selena sighed, holding the necklace up and getting a better look at it. “Maybe it’ll still be here in a few months.” She set it back on its shelf. “C’mon, let’s go help Eileen and Aeva.”

Kelly nodded absentmindedly, already thinking fast on her feet. Once they caught up to their friends and Aeva was talking Selena’s ear off about fabrics, she stepped closer to Eileen, who was looking over a set of wireframes that might make for good bat decorations. “Hey, so you said your dad gave you some money right?”

Eileen looked up. “Yeah?”

“We found something Selena wants, like a lot. It’s perfect for her.” Kelly told her where they’d found the necklace, and Eileen nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, Lenny definitely deserves something nice. She always gets weird about midterms, so I’ll get it for her. Thanks, Kels.”

—–

Selena would not stop thanking Eileen on the way back to campus. The taller girl kept touching the necklace as if entranced by it, and then she’d stop whatever she had been saying to thank Eileen. Even burdened by their purchases - Aeva had picked out a hell of a _lot_ \- Selena seemed light, a spring in her step and none of her usual information to share, only glee.

They dropped off their purchases in the old gym the school kept for sports practice; prom; and events like Halloween, then all went to their own rooms. “So I did a good thing today, Dont!” Kelly started as she pushed the door open, before remembering that the pigbat was gone. Her pin wasn’t on the desk anymore, either. She sighed, sinking into her chair and pulling her homework over. She’d made sure to get her assignments - and notes - from her friends, and knew she should catch up while she didn’t have spirit stuff to worry about, but she couldn’t bring herself to focus. Her mind kept drifting, to last night and Markus in general and that necklace and Selena and -

“Screw it,” she growled around ten, shoving her books away. She opened her laptop instead, putting on an old movie for background noise as she went to sleep. She hated having any light source on at bedtime normally, but it was too quiet without Dont chattering at her as she fell asleep. It took awhile before she eventually dozed off, though her sleep was rough and fitful.

Her alarm buzzed way too early, and Kelly groaned as she shut it off. At least it was Friday - no more school for two days after she got through this one. She got ready for classes, grabbed her bag, and headed off to breakfast.

“Where’s Selena?” she asked when she sat down, frowning. “Did the world go sideways overnight? Aeva’s here, but not Lenny?”

Eileen shrugged, not looking up from her book as she picked at her food. “I knocked on her door because I didn’t see her in the showers like I normally do, but there wasn’t an answer. I thought she might’ve just left early.”

“I’m sure she’s fine, and don’t think I didn’t notice you calling me not-punctual,” Aeva said. “One of these days, Kels, you’re going to develop a sense for putting yourself together and realize why I skip breakfast half the time.”

“We wear a uniform and you have shorter hair than mine. You also tone down your make-up for school.”

She stuck her tongue out. “I still have to do a lot. Don’t underestimate my morning routine.”

Kelly shrugged. “I’m just… I’m worried, is all. Selena never misses anything. She’s the responsible one.”

“Look, you can’t afford to miss two days of class in a row. We’ll go check on her at lunch, okay?”

Even though her stomach was twisting in knots, Kelly nodded in agreement. “Alright.” Maybe she was just over-worrying. Not every odd incident was going to be spirit-related.

Morning classes passed in a blur of tiredness and worry, and Kelly only went to the cafeteria to get food at Eileen’s insistence. “You weren’t feeling well yesterday, you need to keep your strength up!” she scolded.

Kelly still rushed through her lunch and got up before Aeva or Eileen. “Either of you two coming?”

Aeva waved her hand. “You go ahead. Look, Lenny’s probably just caught a cold or has allergies or something. It’s the time of year where everyone starts getting sick. We’ll catch up with you, but if she’s not answering her door, rushing there isn’t going to help anything.” She paused, looking her up and down. “Are you alright, Kelly? You’re never this worked up.”

She bit her lip, sank back into her chair. “Sorry. I just…” She had no way to play this off properly. She was worried about that necklace, that she thought she might’ve made a mistake, but there wasn’t any non-weird way to explain it to her friends. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just a bit on-edge today.”

Eileen looked up from her notebook, then reached over and patted Kelly’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay. If we don’t hear from Selena when we go to check on her now, we’ll get the RA to check her room.”

Kelly nodded, although she kept tapping her foot nervously. After a couple minutes Aeva and Eileen finally finished eating, and the three of them headed up to their floor. Kelly and Eileen stood back while Aeva knocked on the door.

“Selena? You awake? I know the sun’s bright and horrible and it’s not at all a gloomy sort of day, but that’s no reason to still be in bed. We gotta be up even on days that don’t make us feel the best.”

They didn’t hear anything for a moment and then - muffled, as if underwater - “I’m fine! I just need to plan some things. Leave me alone before I bite you.”

The three girls shared a look. Kelly stepped forward, a pit in her stomach. That definitely wasn’t normal. “We have classes, Selena. You should at least try and be there for the afternoon.”

“I said leave me alone!” Something _thump_ ed against the door, but the noise was light, probably a pillow. “I’ll come out when I want to, and not before. It’s warm in here and I like it.”

Aeva bit her lip. “We should probably report this. This is not normal - that barely sounds like Selena!”

“No!” Kelly insisted. They stared at her, and she took a deep breath. “I mean, we don’t know what’s going on, right? Maybe she just got some bad news.” She was fumbling. RAs couldn’t handle this, or the teachers. It was definitely spirit stuff, but she had no way of doing anything either - for another day at least. But threatening to bite them, and trying to keep warm? That certainly sounded reptilian, easily linking to the necklace. “We at least know she’s alive so let’s… Let’s get through classes and come back later. Maybe she’ll have calmed down.”

Eileen and Aeva shared a look, but Eileen shrugged. “She does have a point. Unless we want to bust down Selena’s door, we can’t do much, and I don’t want to get an RA involved if she’s in such a bad place. And we don’t want it to mess with her scholarship.”

Aeva scowled. “I guess, but I don’t like leaving her alone when she’s acting weird. It’s not like Kels yesterday, where we weren’t sure if she was around or not. We’re coming back as soon as classes are done.”

Kelly glanced worriedly at Selena’s door as they left, then sighed and followed her friends to the math class she shared with Aeva.

—–

They didn’t get a chance to head back to the dorm after classes. Kelly’d considered going back without Aeva or Eileen, but then realized it might be trickier to convince them away if they thought she’d already failed to get through to Selena. So even though her heart was pounding nervously and she couldn’t sit still, she stayed in the class building until they were both done. But as they walked across the quad, a frightened senior caught up to them, rushing ahead and turning to face them.

“Look, I know you lot are underclassmen, but - the tall dark girl that always wears blue, she’s with you three, right? She’s in the conference room where the party’s gonna be, but she’s saying some weird stuff and wigging a lot of us out. Can you come get her?” Even though she was panting for breath from her jog and a bit of fright, her words were clear, and sent a chill down Kelly’s spine.

She took off before the senior even finished talking, running ahead of her friends. _Shitshitshit I should’ve been more careful yesterday. I knew there was a bad vibe to that thing, but I wrote it off! Stupid!_

She ran back towards the class building, then left to the administration before rounding to the sports building. Her shoes skidded hard against the tile floor, sliding sideways as she raced through one of the side doors, down a hallway, and pushing through the doors of the old gym while other girls were backing away or rushing out.

Selena stood in front of the tables where their shopping from yesterday sat, scowling down at it. “Kept me prisoner,” she said, lifting out some of the mesh cloth that they were going to put on the folded bleachers along the sides of the room to mimic cobwebs. She tore a long gash in some of it with abnormally long nails before tossing it to the side. “Always silent.” She pulled out some of the wireframe and bent it to the point that it’d be impossible to shape properly. As she got to each item, the necklace at her throat seemed to glimmer for a moment, as if water were dancing across the turquoise.

Selena threw the wireframe away, and it almost hit another girl standing frozen in a corner. The girl squeaked and ducked under a table. Kelly squared her shoulders. She had to do something. She wouldn’t let this spirit use her friend like some kind of puppet, even if it seemed distraught itself.

She took a few steps forward, just as Eileen and Aeva caught up to her. “Selena!” Eileen called. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Selena turned towards them with a snarl. “Stay out of this! Don’t interfere!”

“Are those - what’re you doing to our decorations?” Aeva’s voice was small, unsure and scared.

“Stay away! I don’t like you!” Selena’s voice wasn’t her own. It dropped in pitch, her emphasis changing wildly and becoming increasingly unnatural, almost as if she was about to start babbling or gurgling. “You want to take me away!” The snake on the necklace suddenly moved, coiling up and baring its fangs out at them. The stones shimmered again. The whole thing lifted up slightly, floating above Selena’s skin instead of resting against it.

Kelly saw her tensing up and acted reflexively. “Move!” she yelled, dodging to the left and pulling Eileen down with her. Aeva was out of reach, but managed to dive to the side as well. She couldn’t see whatever the spirit itself was doing, but she did see a burst of acrid-smelling water appear out of midair and drop onto where the three of them had been standing moments before.

A familiar crack cut through the sound of running water, and the harsh scent of brimstone covered the smell of the ocean.

Kelly hated to admit it, but she was glad - almost relieved - that Markus was there, standing proudly on top of the table right next to her.

“Ladies!” Markus threw his arms wide, cloak billowing out behind him as he did so. “Ladies, please, I know I’m handsome but there’s no need to fight over me.”

Kelly was now considerably less glad to see Markus. _Egotistical ass,_ she thought.

He caught sight of Selena, who was hissing unnaturally, and rolled his eyes. He drew a familiar white whip, flicking it once as he took quick assessment of the situation. “Seems you definitely want some of me, but - snakes. Why’d it have to be snakes?”

_This is no time to be quoting Indiana Jones!_ She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to punch him. For the time being, though, she had to keep her friends safe. If he tried to do _anything_ to -

Light flickered around Selena. It was a deep blue, almost the same color as the sea. Kelly could barely see the shape of a serpent growing within, but it was dim, drowned out by… something.

Markus glanced sideways at the door and smirked as he dodged another blast of water. “Guess she’s not coming,” Kelly heard him murmur. “More for me, then.”

She wanted to scream at him that she was right here and he could fuck off, but she had to focus. At least Markus had - and was holding - the spirit’s attention, dodging more blasts of water or ducking under blows from the shifting snake. He seemed to be able to keep track of where it was better than she could. Kelly knelt down, looking at Eileen. “Are you okay?”

“I - I think so.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Kels, what have we gotten into?”

“Something we shouldn’t.” She held out one hand and pulled her friend up from the ground. “Come on, you guys need to get out of here. I’ll get Aeva.”

“If you’re sure.” Her voice was little more than a squeak. “Be careful, _please_ , Kels.” Eileen looked at her for a lingering moment, then turned and bolted out the doors.

Kelly moved back into a crouch and began to make her way to Aeva, who seemed almost paralyzed with fear. She was careful to skirt around the hole that the weird water appeared to be creating in the floor. She reached out with one hand and placed it on her friend’s shoulder. “Aeva - ”

Something gripped her hard by her own shoulder and she let out a yelp as she was thrown roughly to the ground. Looking over as she took her bearings, she saw Markus, claws delicately resting on her arm and seeming unusually concentrated. Where she had been standing a moment before, a new puddle of the strange acid water began to spread across the floor. Aeva hurriedly moved out of the way, snapping to a little at the immediate danger.

_Did Markus honestly just fucking save my life?_ Markus simply winked at her and disappeared in his usual puff of smoke.

_His fighting style is interesting to watch,_ Kelly thought to herself as she moved to help Aeva out of the range of danger once more. The snake dove at him and he casually dodged each blow. She didn’t quite realize what he’s trying to do until he succeeded - the serpent was too busy following him to recognize that it was being led. It moved to strike, again, only to find that its erratic patterns left it tied into a knot.

Selena let out an angry shriek. Markus casually strolled up to her and held his hand, entwined in a deep indigo aura, to the necklace. It shined brightly and he drew back with a small, purplish ball clutched tightly in his claws. A dark spirit.

As Selena’s eyes rolled back into her head, he held her carefully around the waist with his free hand and guided her into a chair.

Markus tossed the necklace to Kelly, who caught it deftly with one hand, still watching him with tentative uncertainty. He popped the spirit into his mouth like it was a piece of candy and grinned. “ _Adieu, mam’selle._ ” The Devil Thief waved and, before she could even think of something to say in response, disappeared.

“What was that?” Aeva muttered, slowly getting to her feet. “Did you see that guy?”

“Yeah.” Kelly was already trying not to think about it. If this got out, Hartway would show up here, and she did not need him investigating this close. But her main concern was - “Selena. Is Lenny alright?” She walked over to her friend, grabbed her wrist. There was a pulse there at least, and the contact made her stir.

“Kels?” Selena’s eyes fluttered open, although she seemed to be having trouble focusing. “I don’t - last I remember was getting ready this morning. How’d I wind up in the gym?”

“It’s a long story.” She held up the necklace, noticed that some of the stones had disappeared from the front and that the snake seemed smaller. “We’ll talk later, but it boils down to this.”

Selena shoved it away, putting a little too much force into it and almost falling forward before catching herself. “I don’t know what happened, but I don’t… Keep that away from me! I don’t want it around anymore.”

Aeva shook her head. “Let’s just - ”

She was cut off as a few of the teachers and even Principal Aftin walked in, barking orders. “Girls, go to the nurse’s to be looked over. We’re confiscating everything bought yesterday that is currently on school grounds.” He stumbled over the hole in the floorboards, and made an aggravated noise. “Dunstan, take stock of the damage in here, would you? Lucky we got here now, seems it might be gas _and_ water damage - we might have to cancel the campus Halloween party, much as I hate to admit it.”

Kelly and Aeva supported Selena as they shuffled out, only grudgingly handing over the necklace to one of the teachers. She was not looking forward to anything that might happen the rest of today, although at least the principal seemed to already think he knew what had happened.

—–

Dont finally showed up around midnight, looking exhausted. “Here’s your pin,” the pigbat mumbled, dropping it on the windowsill as she almost flew into the side of it.

Kelly jumped up, grabbing Dont by the hoof and gently leading her over to the bed. She’d been waiting, somewhat impatiently. She knew she had to talk to her friend about today, but it obviously wasn’t happening tonight. She tucked Dont in under the blanket. “Rest well.”

“Sleep - no, first…” Dont yawned and was silent for a moment, before jolting and shaking her head. “S’of the Shrine,” she mumbled, her words slurring together. “Can’t be taken - tied to Braeden _and_ to Aesling. But just a weapon, so b’wise with it…” She drifted off, and was snoring within a minute.

The redhead smiled and shook her head, just the pigbat’s presence enough to lift her sour mood. She picked up her pin, holding it close. It felt brimming with energy. “Thank you, Dont,” she said, and then transformed. Familiar warmth, fire that she missed, curled around her body. She looked down at herself and called her weapon to hand.

A sword appeared, its handle gold wrapped in leather. The guard reminded her somewhat of a crown, pronged and wide. The blade itself was an odd green stone, something she couldn’t name but that looked _right_ to her, much like the spider silk the whip had. It was heavier than she would have guessed, but she knew she could handle it. She held it for a moment, savoring having something she could use again, then let it disappear.

Ashe left through the already-opened window, and chose the first secluded place she could think of - the park. She had to get used to her new weapon. The “Sword of the Shrine”, if she’d heard right. It was up to her to make sure Markus didn’t take any other spirits. To keep her friends safe, like she almost hadn’t today.

She would not give up being a Spirit Guardian again, not for anything.


	9. This is Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe tries to enjoy Halloween and Spook Day, but has a rough time of it as she chases after a mask on the most mask-filled time of year.

It would be a strange sight at any other time of year, but on such a night as Halloween, few gave it a second glance. A mysterious masked man, donned with hooded cloak, lurked just outside the busy festival streets. A small booth was set up around him, shelves stocked with oddities, each item on display more than perfect for the holiday.

Every now and then, a partygoer or two would divert their path from the road to visit his makeshift stand, enamoured by a curio or mystified by a bauble. More often than not, money would exchange hands, and the empty spot in his display would be quickly replaced by whatever else bizarre trinket the masked man had brought.

A young girl was one of many near-customers that night. She stepped up to the booth in a store-bought costume, plastic bow and quiver strung around her back and small hood resting on her shoulders. She scoured the trinkets with intrigued amber eyes, only stopping to ask the man in a meek tone, “Do you have anything… less… pricey?”

She slunk back half a step as the mask turned to look at her. Each word he said wavered in a discordant cadence. “I’m sorry, but all prices are final say! For tonight, that is. I do have a little post-halloween sale starting in the morning if anything here truly suits your eye. And if you can find me, ehehehe.”

“Oh. I needed it tonight. Sorry, then.”

“That’s fine. Thank you for your…. _consideration_ , at the very least, ehehehe.” He gave a shrill, awkward laugh.

She bowed her head and turned away from the booth. One hand pulled a small brochure from her pocket, frowning ever so slightly as she read the words over for the millionth time. _Masquerade Ball, Halloween night at midnight._

As the girl moved to step back into the busy crowd of the street, a flash of color against the darkness caught her eye. Sitting on its lonesome, in the shadows of a nearby building, was a mask - it was a bird, painted dark like a crow, save for the silver-blue and red adornments added to its design.

She moved over to it, and reached down for it with one hand. _That creepy guy must’ve dropped it when setting up his stand. Maybe if I return it to him, he’ll give me a discount?_

The girl turned it over in her gloved hands, making a more thorough inspection in the light of the streetlamps. The beak of it had been half broken off, cutting what had once been a full face mask in half. A sorry sight in other circumstances, but exactly what she was looking for.

She looked into its eyes, off-white slits, then looked up to the strange silver symbol on its forehead. Something about it unnerved her even as her grip on it tightened.

Wordlessly, she pulled back its string, and slid the crow onto her face.

—–

Ashe collapsed into her chair, legs splayed out in front of her. The chair sat off to the side of the gym, loosely covered in worn and torn streamers in shades of halloween colors. Having gotten her pin back from Dont and it once again being fully operational, she managed to talk her way out of actively decorating and planning for the Halloween Masquerade Ball, though she wasn’t so heartless as to not her friends go out and buy new decorations after the old ones had been confiscated.

None of them had mentioned the incident since Selena was checked out by the nurse. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to forget about what had happened. It was a mutual, unspoken decision to put it behind them, since it was an event with no clear explanation. Ashe wished she could tell them, but Dont had argued against it - most mundanes didn’t take well to spirit knowledge, and became paranoid or distant with whoever told them.

Still not fully wanting to abandon them after agreeing to help, she offered to act as delivery girl, grabbing extra supplies from the store when needed, picking up orders when they came in, and simply bringing decorations from one side of the room to the other. Her legs ached with pins-and-needles and her feet were distractingly sore at the end of each day, but she was pretty sure she’d be even better at climbing through the museum at the end of it all - maybe she should take up running, to build up her muscles even more.

The old gym _did_ look fantastic. The bats Aeva made hung from the rafters on fishing line, making them look like they were flying when pushed by the gentlest breeze. The streamers would be average gaudy fare, but Eileen had set about cutting designs into them to make them stand out. Even the basic fishnets they’d gotten to replace their cobwebby fabric worked well, after Selena had deftly braided a lot of it together into clumps. It wasn’t quite how Aeva and Eileen had wanted, but it was definitely better than any year the other students and faculty could remember.

From up on a ladder, Eileen sighed. “Damn, ran out of tape. Kels, do we have more down there?”

Ashe looked around on the tables covered in supplies. “Nope, don’t see any more.”

Eileen sighed louder. “Aeva, Lenny, you have tape?”

“Nope.”

“On my last piece as well.”

The three of them turned to Ashe, each looking at her with puppydog-eyes.

Selena was the first to start. “We know you’re tired - ”

“But,” Aeva continued, “we do need to finish up these decorations.”

“You can use my bike again!” Eileen piped up.

Ashe tipped her head back. “Fine, just give me a minute to rest.”

The three of them agreed to that, and continued to work as much as they could without tape. When her legs felt a little less like jelly, Ashe slowly meandered off the chair and headed out to where she’d tied up Eileen’s bike.

The sky was a bright orange as the sun set, peaking over the tops of some of the smaller trees. Ashe smirked to herself as she walked the bike over to the sidewalk. _It’s like even the sky knows what holiday it is._ Once on the street, she started pedaling toward one of the utility shops they had gone to get the basic supplies of tape, hooks, and even a couple of pieces of lumber and nails for assembling games.

She glanced to the curbs, where people were starting to set up booths. Some were promotional for the companies that sponsored the event; others were local ones set up purely for the children, with carnival games themed for Halloween and candy for the trick-or-treaters. A few more were special, built by people that didn’t live in Braeden but were always present for the holiday with various odds and ends to sell. It really did feel like a carnival, or some sort of old-time festival. She relaxed a bit as she hopped onto the bike, and let the mood of the city wash over her.

—–

It would’ve been easier for Ashe to walk through the crowd at the rate she was riding back to the school. Not only did she have to be careful of the purchases she’d put in the basket that Eileen had attached to the handlebars to carry more books, but the streets had grown crowded with booths attracting even _more_ people who didn’t understand the concept of not standing still in the middle of the street.

Her low speed gave her time to appreciate the growing spectacle around her. Orange and black streamers wound around the street lights and the tops, with coverings put on the lights themselves so they looked like lanterns. Fake spider webs lay across bushes and other plants that could handle the strain, occasionally accompanied by almost out-of-place strings of fairy lights. For the more delicate plants, small lawn decorations were put in the ground next to them, cartoon-like ghosts, black cats, and mummies. The windows of several stores had paper decorations in them, and it seemed as though every doorway had a jack-o-lantern with a ghoulish face next to it, like they were scaring off bad spirits.

It took her a while, but after looking at multiple small shops, she’d noticed a trend. Small, locally owned businesses had little paper lighthouses stuck on their glass doors. It reminded her of what Selena had said about the history of Spook Day, with some businesses housing lone travelers from demons and monsters that grew in power when it got dark - maybe even hoping to draw in the Lantern-Bearer herself.

_Those must be stores that’re open longer,_ she mused as she walked.

Finally, a pathway opened up in the crowd. She took the chance to hop back on the bike, keeping her attention on the people to either side of her in case it became too thick with people to continue.

For a moment, Ashe could have sworn she saw a familiar man with long blonde hair amidst the chaos, but after a moment she shook her head and continued to pedal through. _Not every man with similar hair has to be him. Paranoia isn’t going to help me, and blonde hair is much more common than odd necklaces._

Her feet pushed hard against the pedals as she picked up speed, eager to return to the school and her friends. A bit of fun after the past week’s drama and stress would be welcome.

—

“I’m back!” Ashe called out to the now-empty gym. “I come bearing gifts of tape!”

She looked around, momentarily confused as there was not a soul to be seen. A couple of streamers that had yet to be pinned up fluttered as a breeze passed through the door.

“Where the hell are you guys?” she muttered to herself, getting a sinking feeling in her gut. She reached for her pin, feeling just a little bit more reassured now that she had it, the slightest sparks of energy growing at her fingertips.

_“BOO!”_

Ashe nearly jumped out of her skin and suppressed a shriek of surprise as the shout sounded from the other side of the gym. Of all the things she’d been expecting, Eileen clutching her stomach as she laughed and Selena and Aeva giggling along as well was not one of them.

“Wow, didn’t think you’d be so jumpy,” Eileen said, once she got her breath back.

Ashe looked to where her friends had emerged from. She’d taken longer getting back than she’d thought as all of them had already gotten into their costumes. Aeva had gone hunting in every thrift shop in town she could find to get the right appearance for her pirate costume; a long, dark purple coat that looked almost black in certain light, covered in layers of other purple and red clothing to give her the best buccaneer look. Complete with a tricorne set low, an eyepatch on her left eye, and a bit of eyeliner, even Captain Jack Sparrow would be envious.

It took a moment for Ashe to recognize what Selena was, but then she recalled hearing about a video game all summer and it clicked. She really didn’t know anything about the class - character - whatever it was other than their name, Dragoon, but Selena did an amazing job for recreating it - simple craft foam shaped to resemble the detailed armor and visor, all in a rich blue with silver highlights that worked well for her, and a black bodysuit making the gaps slightly less obvious and more tasteful.

Eileen was the only one with an actual horror-based costume: a red-stained white dress, ripped and tattered at the sleeves and hem, accessorized with a short veil and a foam machete. Ashe knew she was supposed to be a bride caught in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, but also knew there hadn’t been time to make a head prop to bring it all together. Still, people thinking she was a murderous bride wouldn’t be too far off the mark.

“You guys look awesome,” Ashe smiled as her heartbeat finally began slowing down to a more reasonable rate.

“And you will soon, too,” Selena said, pulling a hanger from behind her back, a fabric cover over it.

Ashe’s eyes widened. “Oh no, I thought I said I didn’t have time to make one.”

Eileen shrugged. “You did, so we made one for you.”

“You… really didn’t have to.” Even after two years of knowing them, she was still surprised when they put something together for her. Especially now, after having been so distant lately, and distracted with spirit stuff. She looked between the three of them, unsure how to phrase her thanks.

“But we wanted to!” Selena said with a bright smile, recognizing the redhead’s awkward mood and trying to move things along.. She handed it to Ashe, “So here, try it on.”

“Oh, okay.” Ashe hesitantly took it, tugging the zipper of the cover down a little as she attempted to discern exactly what it was. There were mostly bright colors, golden hues and orange tones. A black tank top was covered by a translucent orange-toned shawl. A pink scarf was tied around the hanger, and some of the same fabric wrapped around the waist. The bottom was a skirt in a gradient that went from yellow to pink like the sunrise, while matching tights, sandals, and straps completed the ensemble. It was pretty, whatever it was meant to be.

“What is it?” Ashe asked, looking back to her friends, her nervousness swiftly replaced with curiosity.

“Oh, wait!” Eileen ducked behind a nearby table, took something from behind it, and handed it to Ashe. A square paper lantern hung from a wooden stick and when Ashe looked inside, she could see a small LCD sitting in the center. “Guess again.”

“Oooooh,” Ashe said, her thoughts finally clicking into place. “Does this mean I’m - ”

“The Lantern-Bearer!” Selena exclaimed.

“Or the closest we could get to one,” Aeva filled in.

“Of course, no one really knows what they look like, but according to the local legend about Braeden, this is roughly what the Lantern-Bearer would wear.” Selena nodded excitedly. “Considering how much you like hearing about stuff like that, we thought it’d work. It was difficult, making it in a week without you finding out, but it should work.”

_They have no idea how close they are._

“Thank you, really, I’ll go put this on right now.” Ashe said with a grin before heading to her dorm.

—–

“Don’t look yet, Dont, I’m not ready!”

She could almost hear the pigbat pouting when she replied, “But I want to see how muggles think Miss Kyl’il looks!”

Ashe paused in putting on the costume as she considered what her companion said, who seemed to understand the silence and shrugged sheepishly.

“What? I’ve been reading some of your books!”

Ashe couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “Well, I’m not ready yet, so you still wouldn’t get to see how other people see her.” Ashe let out a grunt as she tried to reach for the zipper. “If this is actually how Kyl’il’s clothes work, then I feel sorry for her.”

After a minute or two of fumbling, she finally managed to fully zip up the dress and get the shawl to sit right on her shoulders. “Okay, now I’m ready,” she called out.

Dont zoomed out from where she was hiding underneath Ashe’s sheets. She flew wide-eyed around Ashe, making the dress flutter around her and even more so resembling a  dancing flame. After a couple rotations, she stopped her circling and settled down.

“You look very pretty!” the pigbat said, beaming, “But I prefer Miss Kyl’il’s outfit more, sorry.”

Ashe smirked as she looked back at herself in the mirror. “I have to agree with you there, although storytelling tends to make stuff weird, right? My friends really outdid themselves this time, huh?”

“Yep! Definitely,” Dont nodded, but Ashe could see the slightest hint of uncertainty in her expression.

She sat down on her bed, looking up at her companion. “What’s wrong?”

Dont looked embarrassed. “Nothing’s wrong, it’s just…”

“What?”

“There’s a… spirit out there,” Dont pointed her snout to the direction of the party.

Ashe nodded slowly. “Okay, then. Hopefully it’ll be fairly easy to take care of since I can’t bring you along with me where all those kids can see you. Do you have any idea where or what the spirit is?”

Then Dont got really sheepish, rubbing her hooves together. “It’s in a, um, in a…. mask.”

It didn’t register to Ashe until she looked over to the flier for the party Eileen had given her, tacked up beside her mirror.

“It’s in a mask… And it’s Halloween, where people are wearing costumes with masks… and there’s a masquerade party going on _right now._ ”

“I know it’s inconvenient, but…”

“I know, I know, and I’ll do it, of course. I just wasn’t planning on looking for a needle in a needle stack.” A look of realization crossed her face and she groaned. “And I don’t even _have_ a mask for the party.”

Dont nuzzled her arm. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be able to find a mask to go with your costume and the mask the spirit’s in.”

“I just hope they aren’t one and the same.”

Dont shuddered. “Yeah, no, that would not be good. I’ll keep a lookout, and in the meantime you should have as much of a good time tonight as you can.” The pigbat nudged Ashe’s side. “Go on! You’ll be fine, I’m sure!”

—–

Ashe wandered the streets, plenty of time left to waste amongst the celebrations even as the sun had since set. She had more than a half hour before she’d have to help her friends with last minute preparations for the masquerade. She’d already watched the parade with them, though she lost them in the crowd afterwards. _Good thing we made plans to just meet back at the school. I don’t have to worry about finding them,_ she thought as she wandered around. This wasn’t her first Halloween in Braeden, but it was her first not spent helping Wren manage the various abandoned ravens and crows people that were usually kept just until the holiday. She wanted to experience it, even though she had to keep her eye open for anyone that might have the possessed mask.

The sudden flapping of wings and the familiar sound of birds cawing brought her out of her thoughts. She had somehow reached the edge of the festivities without realizing, the decorations so far from the center of the excitement seeming half-hearted and the normal sounds of the city overtaking the holiday crowd.

She turned back to where she’d come from, but before she could do so, one of the booths caught her eye. Most of the ones away from the central festivities were hosted by non-native corporations trying to weave themselves into the heart of the city, but one caught her eye as out of place. It was more of a mobile antiques shop, with wooden shelves surrounding the masked, hooded man who stood behind a counter that resembled a podium. A ragged blue cloth encompassed the entire thing, shrouding it in shadows. Ashe couldn’t help the shiver that ran up her back the more she looked at it.

_Well, I_ am _supposed to be looking for unusual people wearing masks._

She stepped closer, despite her instincts screaming at her to get away. It didn’t help when the masked man looked up from what he was doing and smiled, almost too wide or too cheerful. “What can I do for you? Looking for something in particular?” His voice’s odd intonation and high pitch sent another chill down her spine.

“No, no,” she said hastily. “Just… looking.”

“Well, I’m closing for the night soon! And who knows where I’ll be after that, ehehehe!”

She took a deep breath before asking. “Can… can I take a look at your mask?”

“Oh, this old thing?” he pointed to his mask. “Why, this has no value! But if you are looking for one for the party everyone is talking about, I have one riiiiiight here!”

He turned around and started to search through his shelves, though they seemed to have no organization to them at first glance. She watched in silence, expecting the mystery man to procure the mask quickly, as obviously he’d at least have a sorting system that made sense to himself. However, after only a few seconds of looking, his shoulders tensed, and he started muttering under his breath. As he continued to search up and down the shelves, Ashe could tell he was getting more and more agitated. Finally, he turned back, wringing his hands.

“It’s gone!” he exclaimed, loud enough for some passer-bys to look up and stare. “Someone took it! And it was a special one, ooooooh.” She wasn’t sure if his tone was more a show of resignation or a whine. Possibly both.

“What made the mask so special?”

“It had that _feeling_ I find occasionally, that _feeling_ of… of power, that they hold something more inside!” He looked at her. “You’ve seen things like that, yes? That just _call_ to you to help them?”

She gave him a confused look and pretended not to hear the second half. _That certainly sounds like a spirit._ Her mind filled with a dozen questions, though she had almost no time to ask any of them. She had to get the mask away from whoever had it before they could do any damage - or a _lot_ of damage.

_… and before Markus gets to it._

“What does it look like?” she asked, focusing only on the necessary.

“Hmm… it’s half of a crow! The bottom part broke off before I… acquired it, ehehehe. It has red and light blue accents, and shouldn’t be too hard to spot.”

“Okay, I’ll get it back to you once I find it. Thank you for the help!” Ashe said before turning to walk away.

“It’s much appreciated, if you can find me again!” the man called to her before trailing off into screechy laughter. Ashe did her best to ignore him. While he’d set her on a path to (hopefully) the right mask, he was a still a creepy vendor that for some reason reminded her of a rat.

—–

Ashe wanted to have fun, she did, but her focus kept drifting back to the mask.  She rushed back to the festival’s center, trying to stay at the edges of the crowd. She skimmed past the carnival game booths to look for any suspicious people, dodged past the food stands while keeping an eye out for any surge of panicked movement. She tuned out the laughter of little kids and parents talking to listen for any screams of distress.

She was not expecting the trigger phrase to be “Miss, please put down the bow and arrow”, but when she looked in that direction, she could see a curious group beginning to gather. She followed her hunch and ducked into an alley, her pin already in her hands. The stench of garbage didn’t even register as she ducked behind a pile of rotting cardboard boxes and whispered her transformation phrase. The familiar warmth washed over her though she was too distracted to enjoy it, sprinting back towards where she’d heard the disturbance, hopefully before someone got hurt. She pushed her way into the crowd to see a dark haired girl dressed as Robin Hood, pointing a bow and arrow at a man, but none of that mattered when she saw the crow mask the girl was wearing, clearly matching the mysterious man’s description.

“Everyone! Move!” Ashe shouted, hoping to catch the crowd’s attention. Several of the people near her took a step back, but it seemed to be more in confusion than actually listening to what she said. The masked girl noticed her, however, and she turned to train her bow on Ashe.

Ashe sprinted away, only pausing to see if she was still following. An arrow landing with a _thunk_ in the booth behind her, mere inches away from her face, which more than answered her question and she took off again down the street.

As she ran, she shouted, “Out of the way! Move! Move!” She thanked her lucky stars when the pedestrians did so, though she could feel their eyes on her back. She ignored it, focusing on ducking behind abandoned booths moments at a time to catch her breath before taking off again. At one point, a loud ding! cut through the din as a missed shot struck right through a cardboard target and pierced the back wall of the stand. If it could do that with such ease, she didn’t want to know what it would do if a shot landed.

She turned the corner when she reached the intersection, hoping to hide in an alley and start to fight back with no mundanes in the way, but she ran headfirst into someone before she could do so. She landed on the ground with an “oof” as an arrow glanced the sidewalk just shy of her arm. Quickly getting up, she heard who she ran into before she could look up.

“Aesling! Long time, no fight, huh?”

Her eyes widened when she saw Markus, but before she could summon her weapon, another arrow landed in the space between her feet. She jumped up from the ground and moved to his side.

Markus smiled, as if he couldn’t see the clearly spirit-possessed girl in front of them. “I missed you, you know? It’s so much more boring when all you have to do is take care of a spirit - our fights are the fun part in this, really. Well, and me winning.”

Ashe ignored him, instead focusing on calling her weapon to her. The hilt formed in her hand, and it was only when the blade formed that she remembered she no longer had her whip, and instead possessed the Sword of the Shrine, which she had considerably less practice with.

_Fuck_.

She had no more time to think as the girl fired another arrow, aiming for her arm. Ashe twitched out of the way, the tip of the sword dragging across the ground. She heard the all too familiar _pop_ of Markus teleporting, then saw an arrow fly through the spot he’d just occupied.

“This doesn’t seem too hard,” Markus smirked, though a moment later the girl took another shot, this time directly for his chest. He sidestepped out of the way easily enough, although his expression twisted into a frown as the archer began to notch her arrows more quickly, each one aimed at the same spot. Ashe took the distraction as an opportunity  to aim for her arm with the flat of the blade, hoping to incapacitate her. Holding the sword with both hands, she swung the sword up, but missed the girl’s shoulder by a couple of inches. No sooner had she done that did the archer turn to point her bow and arrow right at her elbow. Ashe took a step back, and swung her arms down, cleaving the arrow in two. As the broken pieces clattered to the ground and the girl fumbled to load another arrow, the Spirit Thief backed up to where Markus stood.

“I’m sorry we bumped into each other like this,” Markus said, watching Ashe as she ran to stand by him. “I would’ve rather you see my costume. It was rather amazing if I do say so myself. You’ll never guess what it was.”

She said nothing, focused on dodging the arrows that flew toward them, blocking a couple by bringing up the flat side of her sword.

“No quips today? Alright, I guess I’ll just tell you. It was an angel… an _angel!_ Can’t you just imagine it, devilishly handsome me as an angel? Oh, you wouldn’t believe the compliments I got about it. A couple of phone numbers, too.”

Ashe maintained her silence, taking a step away from him as the archer’s onslaught continued. She needed to figure out how to knock the girl out without harming her, since the mask was hopefully like Selena’s necklace and needed a conscious host.

“I was actually thinking of just wearing this,” he gestured to his outfit, simultaneously dodging an arrow aimed at his neck. “But then I got other plans. A mob of fans I can handle, maybe not a mob of police.”

Ashe smirked, finally giving into his banter. “You can’t get away from a few policemen?”

Markus faltered in his step, stopping to glare at her. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He suddenly grinned before pulling out her whip. He knocked an arrow out of the air with a well-placed strike, “Besides, I’m not the one who was nearly caught.”

Her head snapped to look at him, fury in her eyes. Without thinking, she swung the sword at Markus. He jumped back, but not before she clipped his side. She could see the thin line of a cut through the rip she made in his shirt, and couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied to finally land a blow.

“Because you _stabbed me in the back_ and left me there after we had a deal!” she shouted at him, taking another swing. This time he was ready, dodging her sword and ducking an arrow in the same motion.

“Well, this fight just got more interesting!” Markus cackled. He started charging one of his shadow blasts, and Ashe watched it warily.

Markus flicked his _other_ wrist. Ashe instinctively threw up her arm, blocking the whip from whatever its intended target had been as the end of it wrapped around her wrist. She moved her left hand, swinging her sword to cut through the rope, but seconds before it made contact, Markus smirked.

The unthrown blast disappeared from his hand as the whip momentarily tinged black. Her teeth clenched as she fell to the ground, overcome with agony as her wrist was now literally aflame. Shaking slightly, she barely managed to fight through the pain and complete the swing, stray strands of the whip disintegrating as the rope fell apart.

She looked at her wrist. A deep, dark burn cut into it - hopefully it wasn’t bad enough that it would be too noticeable after she transformed back, but it definitely wouldn’t heal completely by then. And, God, did it _hurt_.

Her head snapped back up to glare at Markus. She lunged as best she could while kneeling. He dissipated, but she reacted quickly, turning on her heels to block the whip, this time with her sword.

“You can’t play that same trick on me twice,” she said with a snarl.

Before Markus could reply, an arrow struck their weapons. They both looked to see the possessed girl, still standing and wearing the crow’s mask, bow and arrow pointed right at them. Ashe stood up, yanking her sword toward herself as she did so. It didn’t have the effect she wanted, Markus keeping a firm grip on the whip, but he was jerked forward enough for an arrow to land in his shoulder as the sword finally cut through the next length of rope. He gritted his teeth, turning to glare at the girl. “How many of those things do you _have?”_ he shouted.

She had no reaction other than to notch another arrow. With a sharp _crack_ , Markus teleported, landing a few feet away, his hands on his knees.

“What the hell is this spirit’s deal?” he asked, panting, narrowly dodging another arrow. It cut through his sleeve - he was slowing down as the teleportation was quickly catching up to him.

“I’m not sure.” Ashe replied, shaking out her wrist. “She likes to aim for my arm, though.”

“Yeah, so?” Markus shrugged. He brought the whip out again, aiming for the bow and arrow. He missed by a foot and cursed. “So did I. You obviously don’t know how to properly use that sword, so of course it would go for your weak points.”

Ashe thought for a moment as she slowly walked toward the girl, whose sights were still trained on Markus. She brought the sword up and tried to hit her arm with the flat side of the blade once more in an attempt to get her to drop her damn weapon. She miscalculated the angle of the blade, and brought the point to the girl’s arm, drawing a long, thin line of blood. The archer flinched, hissing at the pain.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” Ashe exclaimed, withdrawing. The girl said nothing, she just turned and leveled her bow at Ashe. She barely had time to dive to the side before she fired the arrow.

“Hey, crow face!” Markus shouted, getting the attention of the archer. He was much closer and  at a better angle now, and he flicked his wrist, aiming for the girl’s hands. He hit his mark, the whip wrapping around her wrists, a sharp tug forcing her to drop her bow. She momentarily feared him lighting the whip and burning the girl like he’d done to her minutes ago, even as she remembered how considerate he’d been to Selena. Ashe lunged for the mask, but Markus placed his hand on it first. A flick of a claw cut through the string as he plucked the mask off her face, winked, and disappeared in a puff of smoke. The girl faltered for a moment and Ashe grabbed her arm, the uninjured one, to try and support her.

_Why didn’t he remove the spirit? He might do it once he’s away, but he never cares to keep the pieces -_

She wasn’t able to continue her thought, shouting and the roar of a crowd catching up to her. She looked around and realized they were in an alley. She gently set the unconscious girl down, and noticed that the formerly deadly bow and arrows now seemed to be just ordinary plastic. For the first time in a while, she was struck by just how much spirits could do.

“Hey! I found them!” A man in a simple suit, probably a booth attendant, stood at the head of the alley. “You there, hold on! What was all of that?”

Ashe glanced around, saw a fire escape. “Sorry, but I have places to be.” She took a few running steps, then jumped up to the escape ladder. She winced as she grabbed onto it with her injured hand, but kept moving despite the pain. She leapt up onto the roof of the building, where she turned to make sure that no one followed her. A handful of people had rushed into the alley, watching but not daring to follow. She could see a couple of people kneeling by the girl, hopefully off-duty doctors that happened to be nearby. _At least she’ll be okay._ The flash of a camera’s bulb cut through the darkness and she swore before running off, jumping to another nearby roof. She did not want to have to deal with any kind of _“public affairs”._

—–

When she was a decent distance from the crowd but still close enough to the celebration, Ashe slid down into another alley and let her transformation fall away. It was a bit of a relief as the layers of her Lantern-Bearer costume reappeared, settling down as if they’d just been disturbed by a bit of wind. She stepped back out onto the street, trying to figure out where she was, then sighed with relief as she read a street sign and saw that she was actually on her school’s street, a little under two miles away from the campus.

She started walking, wishing she could just sink into a hot bath. Her legs were sorer than ever, and her wrist was, well. She looked at it, an angry red spiral of a welt covering her skin under her corded bracelets. She’d have to figure out a way to explain _that_ , in case her friends noticed.

She looked back up as she neared more festival-goers. Some were whispering about tonight’s spectacle when she passed -

“Did you see those effects? How did that blonde guy have that orb attack?”

“What ‘orb attack’? I didn’t see anything there.”

“I don’t know, but it was a really cool show! Really intense.”

“Do you think the city organized it? Or some of the shops?”

”Maybe it was the museum - didn’t that remind you of the Phantom Thieves?”

“Aren’t there only supposed to be two of them though?”

“Ballast McGee could be wrong!”

Ashe shook her head, hurrying past them. She didn’t want to think more about that fight. Another loss. More power to Kyl’il’s enemy. Some masked people walked past her, an older group in understated costumes headed towards some sort of adult party. A few people were rushing back towards the main part of the festival, wanting to get to the booths as more began closing up.

She decided to make a small detour as she passed some herself and the smell of fried foods and sugary bread called to her as they reached her nose. Her stomach rumbled while she got into line and took her wallet out a pocket sewn on the inside of her belt sash. She opened it, only to realize she didn’t have any cash with her. Of all the nights. She stepped to get out of line.

“Oh, no, Lantern-Bearer! Let me!” someone behind her said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Ashe turned, looking to see a tall and slender woman wearing a black dress with layers of sheer orange and red cloth over it like so many robes. “Pardon?” she asked, too tired to quite register anything.

“I’ll pay for your food,” the woman offered. “Your costume is really wonderful!” She held up a flashlight. “Much better than mine, anyways. I want to show my compliments properly. Truly, get whatever you want.”

“Oh!” Ashe blushed a little. “It’s all thanks to my friends, really, but um, if you want? That’d be really appreciated.” Her stomach growled loudly again. “A lot.”

The woman laughed as they stepped up to the booth, the sound somehow reminding Ashe of metal being struck by a hammer. “It’s the least I can do for such a bright talent.”

“Thanks.” Ashe ordered two corn dogs and a funnel cake with extra cinnamon and sugar on it - empty carbs, but she really wanted something doughy and sweet right now. The other Lantern-Bearer paid for it, and Ashe waved happily at her as she walked off with her food.

She made it back to the school easily enough, although her legs felt like lead by then. The party was already in full swing with music blaring deafeningly through the hallways surrounding the gym. It was even harder to hear in the large room itself, but she finally tracked down her friends and apologized for being late.

Selena glared at her. “What’re you doing here?” she shouted over the music.

“What?”  
  
“You’re clearly exhausted - most of it’s probably our fault, too.”

“So get get some rest!” Aeva added, shoving her towards the doors.

“I’ll make sure she makes it to her room,” Eileen said, taking Ashe’s wrist and pulling her away. She flinched; Eileen’s grip was strong, and she’d grabbed the injured one. “C’mon, Kels.”

It took her thoughts a minute to catch up with what was going on. By the time they did, Eileen had her two halls away from the gym, and they could speak at a normal volume. “Shouldn’t I be there? I thought this was supposed to be a fun night.”

“Yeah, but you need sleep. There’s bags under your eyes and whatever caused this must’ve taken a lot out of you.” Eileen turned, loosening her hold and lightly running her thumb over the burn on Ashe’s wrist. “Besides, I needed to get out of there myself. Somehow I always forget how tiring crowds are. Lenny can deal with any last-minute official things the seniors on the committee want done.”

Ashe smiled, just barely. She really was lucky, with so many people looking out for her. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Let’s just get you all settled in.”

They walked back to the dorms, and Eileen didn’t leave her side until they were at her room and Ashe was in her pajamas. The redhead rolled her eyes, but didn’t lose her smile. “Night, Eileen,” she said as she closed her door, then switched her light off and collapsed into bed.

Dont flew over from the top of Ashe’s closet, hovering over the girl’s head. “Kelly? Did you find the mask? What happened?” she asked worriedly. When there wasn’t an answer, she frowned and landed on the pillow next to her face. “Kelly? …Ashe?” Dont frowned worriedly, then realized Ashe was already fast asleep. “I hope that means you had fun,” she said, settling down herself and burrowing into the blankets beside her. She touched her snout to Ashe’s forehead. “Sleep well, Spirit Thief.”


	10. Spirit of the Opera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A local performance goes awry as a spirit interrupts the production, and it’s up to Ashe to take the lead.

The Braeden Civic Theater was bustling with people making last-minute preparations for opening that weekend. Actors sang scales, instruments were tuned for practice, stage crew called for clarification on scene changes and prop cues. Ashe stood at the back of the auditorium, in the doorway of the tech booth. She stepped further into the room as a frazzled-looking assistant ran past with a whole bolt of cloth in hand, doing her best to keep out of the way.

“Are you almost done, Wren?” she asked.

“Be patient, Kelly! I went with you to check out the museum even though you go there, like, every weekend, so you can wait for me to finish here.” Her cousin was focused on the tech board, the section to do with microphones and sound effect cues, while someone else in the booth played with the various spotlights.

Ashe shrugged. “Sorry, this is just… really boring. Is there anything that I can help with?”

“If you’d agreed to be Christine’s understudy, yeah, but at this point it’s too close to opening night that we can’t explain stuff to someone new.” Wren sighed, straightening and running a hand through her multi-colored spikes of hair. “Sorry for being short, we’ve just had a lot of - oh, not again!” The auditorium suddenly plunged into blackness, only the faint lights around the edge of the stage turned on. “Niel, was that you?”

The other techie held his hands up, barely visible in the dark. “I didn’t press anything. It’s just another phantom moment.”

“Ugh, stop being superstitious. It’s not like we’re running Macbeth! Stuff doesn’t go weird during these shows,” Wren said, although the slightest hint of worry made its way into her tone. “Maybe we should call someone for help, like the director wants… Do we know anyone that might have some experience - ” She caught herself midway through her train of thought. “Hey, Kelly, don’t you have Gregor’s phone number? He deals with enough weird stuff on that Phantom Thieves case, I think. Maybe he can figure this out.” She turned around, only to find herself alone in the tech booth. “Kelly?”

As soon as the lights went out, Ashe ventured down one of the aisles to the stage. Wren had been telling her about weird stuff all the last few weeks, music randomly playing or props falling over, lights turning on and off for no reason. She’d written it off as theater superstitions, or last second problems in a hastily produced production, but something about this definitely wasn’t right. She carefully made her way onto the stage, taking a look at the lights set around it. The old candle hoods had electric bulbs in them now, and were wired to the tech booth like everything else - yet the lights weren’t on, and the glow instead came from ghostly flames floating lazily around each bulb.

Ashe took a step back and reached for the pin in her hair, the circumstances of the discovery momentarily eluding her. She needed the extended senses that her transformation gave her, though she was hastily distracted when someone ran on stage - a chorus girl for the play, judging by her ballerina outfit - and the flames disappeared in the same instant that the rest of the lights came back on. Ashe froze, realizing that she’d almost revealed herself, and shook her head.

“Does this happen often?” she asked the chorus girl.

“Only since we started prepping for _this_ show.” The girl sighed, exhaling upwards so her bangs fluttered a little. “The only time it doesn’t is during actual rehearsals, but people keep getting really intense during those and flubbing lines with personal bullshit. The director always makes us stay late to redo those scenes. It’s getting really tiring.”

Ashe’s eyes narrowed. That _definitely_ sounded like spirit stuff. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but then Wren was suddenly there, putting her in a headlock.

“Hey! Don’t go running through a dark theater when there’s a show being prepped, dummy!” she exclaimed, laughter ringing out like bells. “And gimme your phone - I need Gregor’s number. I want to see if maybe he can figure out some of this weirdness before opening night.”

Ashe grimaced, but dug her phone out of her pocket when she couldn’t immediately think of an excuse for Wren not to call the detective. Nothing that didn’t seem suspicious, anyways; she’d just have to try and not draw his attention if - or when - he showed up.

Wren didn’t even copy Hartway’s number into her own phone, instead plucking it from Ashe’s grasp and hitting “call” herself. It took a few seconds for him to answer, and then she was chattering away. “Gregor! Hey, it’s Wren - I’m using Kelly’s phone right now. Uh-huh, she’s fine. I’ve been good… Yeah, we definitely should meet up for lunch sometime! But listen - you’re a detective now right? Are the papers right, and all that weird stuff keeps happening during your case at the museum?” She paused for a minute, her face turning slightly red. “No, I’m not gonna grill you about it! Geez. I honestly don’t care about popularity stuff - look, that was a phase and you know it! Anyways. There’s some kinda freaky stuff happening at the Civic Theater. Think you can come take a look? Really? Great! See you tonight, then.”

She hung up, and handed the phone back to her cousin. “I knew I kept you around for something,” she said, sticking her tongue out playfully.

Ashe rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too. For a moment, she’d been reminded of when she’d visit Braeden as a kid, listening to Wren and Gregor spend most of the day teasing each other and horsing around. Simpler days, removed from any magic or lies. “Can we head home yet?” she asked. “I want to enjoy my long weekend a bit.”

“You go on ahead. Tell my dad not to wait for me for dinner.”

“Sure.” Ashe waved as she left the auditorium, although once outside she made a swift decision, and turned towards the old lighthouse instead of home. She sent a text to her uncle, then slid her phone back in her pocket and hurried away from the city.

—–

Ashe still couldn’t believe that this was the best solution. She stared at herself in the dressing room mirror, her hair magically grown and dyed in place of a wig, all of the costumes fitted to her even though the real Christine had just fallen ill two hours ago. She wasn’t originally supposed to be on stage for the whole time, she just needed to find a way to get there once the spirit made itself apparent, and hopefully without interrupting the show… But the actual actress was sick, so here she was, with a large spell making itself slightly bigger to accommodate the change in circumstances.

“It’ll be okay,” Dont said, perched on top of the mirror. “You’ve had singing lessons, right? It should be enough with Miss Kyl’il’s magic helping you.”

“And the magic of the theater itself,” Ashe muttered, remembering returning in the faint hours before dawn. It had been odd, seeing the Guardian Spirit outside of her lighthouse, but Kyl’il had appeared on the stage like she belonged there and set a spell on the building. Anyone that had entered today thought she was Christine’s understudy, that she had taken up Wren’s offer to help those few months ago, instead of refusing because of school and spirit business keeping her busy.

Dont nodded. “Yeah. Just remember that it’s all emotional, Ashe.” The pigbat shifted nervously. “There’s enough of a mix here that you should be fine, but caught up in magic like you are… The spirit isn’t tied to any one thing this time, just the performance itself. If it doesn’t latch onto anyone else, it might come for you - which we kind of want, so long as you’re careful to make sure it doesn’t possess you.”

“I know.” Ashe took a deep breath, then smiled up at Dont. “I’ll be cautious.”

The lights flickered, a two-minute warning for the actors. She took one more deep breath, and then headed towards the stage. She took her place with the other girls - there was no turning back now.

As the opening notes of the musical began to swell, so too did the pounding of Ashe’s heart. She wished it could’ve kept the same steady rhythm as the instruments down in the orchestra. Instead, it skipped what felt like every other beat, creating a halting, irregular harmony.

The two men on stage pulled the tarp from the display. Slowly, the bulbs of the great chandelier flickered and lit, stray sparks flying and illuminating the room like streaks of lightning. Smoke pooled into the air. The chandelier began to rise to the top of the theatre, a brilliant sight in all senses of the word. It was a shame, she thought, in such a rushed production that they’d had no time to -

Ashe’s thoughts were cut off as she and her companions were all ushered forward, so lost in her own head that she’d forgotten where she was.

And thus began the very strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera.

—–

Ashe stood in front of her fellow cast, all eyes on her. Christine had been volunteered as able to take Carlotta’s part, and now she had to do was play it out.

This was where the magic she’d been promised by Kyl’il would come into play, although she was still doubtful as she remembered the spirit’s smile lighting up like a spark. She felt the magic fill her chest as she started the song, comforting but also painful, like the first breath after being underwater for too long. The first notes came low and unsteady, like her own voice. “ _Think of me, think of me fondly…_ ”

As she continued, it began to carry her words, her breath, making up half the music for her so long as she could keep her mind in focus, her range rising with her confidence. Her song filled the auditorium, and even though a good portion of it was magic, she couldn’t help but be proud of herself.

When Raoul broke through, her heart once again skipped a beat. She’d heard him when the play had began, the scene in the auction, but she’d been so anxious she’d forgotten. She glanced up to the box where he stood with the actors as the theater owners - Detective Hartway gazed back at her, looking dashing in a suit instead of his normal uniform.

His own voice was quiet, unsure, just as startled by her as she was by him. _“Long ago, it seemed so long ago - how young and innocent we were!_ ” He had trouble keeping up with the music; he definitely fit the part of a sponsor with no place in the theater itself.

It took Ashe a moment to recover, and the last few lines started quietly. “ _Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade._ ” But the magic came back to her quickly, and her smile was a real one on the final line of the song, the stuttering glissando that showed Christine could be technical as well as emotional with her voice. _I might actually be able to pull this off after all._

—–

Hartway hadn’t completely thought this through. He’d come when Wren called, she introduced him to the director, and he’d interviewed as many people as he could around their production. He’d said he wanted to be as close to things as possible, to keep an eye out just in case. Somehow the director had jumped from that to putting him on stage, in a major role that didn’t “require much expertise”.

“It’ll add flair to the show,” the director had said. “I don’t like our Raoul anyways, and someone inexperienced will sell the outsider part better. How quickly can you memorize a script?”

And for whatever dumb reason he’d agreed, and now here he was, uncomfortably dressed in a suit and on stage because obviously he could react quicker to anything suspicious if he was already present. It wasn’t the best decision he’d made, but the detective was so eager at any chance for a break in the Phantom Thieves case that he’d jumped at the thought.

He tried to stayed focused, eyes sweeping the audience and the stage alike for anything suspicious. But then the girl on the stage started singing, and all thoughts of the Phantom Thieves left his mind. He knew that voice. She looked odd, with long brown hair instead of her usual red fluff, but that was definitely Kelly. He was impressed, and surprised to see that she must’ve kept up her voice lessons over the years.

_Wren didn’t tell me she was part of this! Good for her,_ he thought, surprised enough that he missed his cue. The actor next to him nudged him, and he jumped in. Too late for the first line, but - “Bravo! _Long ago, it seemed so long ago - how young and innocent we were! She might not remember me, but I still think of her._ ” The other actor gave him a look and he knew he’d said the wrong words, but Hartway could only offer an apologetic smile as he left the theater box. He was trying, at least, and cues and lines and stage directions were a lot to learn in less than a week.

Still, Kelly! He was happy for her; she really looked at home on that stage, and he hoped that being a part of this would help get rid of that listlessness he always sensed from her.

Perhaps she was the cause of the budding confidence in his chest - or that after he’d been on stage, he’d finally realized it wasn’t nearly as hard to perform as he thought. Whatever it was settled there, and ran through his veins, feeling like hot chocolate after a cold winter’s storm. He stood up straighter as his heart beat faster, and waited to be called back to the stage.

—–

“ _Don’t be frightened - Christine, Christine,_ ” sang Meg worriedly, and then, ever so faintly, she heard the Phantom’s whisper. It was supposed to be an echo, but she could’ve almost sworn that he instead hissed, “ _Aesling…_ ”

She might’ve just been imagining things, though.

Even with that oddity, Ashe was still giddy as she moved from her solo to the backstage scene, her voice an excited whisper as she spoke with the actress playing Meg. “I always felt safe, guided. Even in the dark. So long as I had a candle, even a small light, the shadows didn’t scare me.” She changed the spoken lines, trying to draw on how she felt knowing Dont and Kyl’il gave her their power to fight spirits. She hoped putting so much of herself into this might draw the spirit to her. “Someone was there, teaching me, gifting me their abilities.”

She swallowed nervously, trying not to get too caught up. She couldn’t think of how to change the sung lines, so played them straight. “ _Father once spoke of an angel, I used to dream he’d appear._ ”

Meg’s face relaxed a little at the familiar part of the script. The poor actress had seemed so confused, worried her own cues might be lost as Ashe changed hers. But they got through the duet, including the girl’s worry over her friend.

As Madame Giry escorted Meg away, she could’ve sworn something about her face was familiar - the thought was whisked off as Raoul and the others made their way onto the stage.

—–

Sitting in Christine’s dressing room, Ashe felt a tinge of nervousness. Hartway was playing Raoul - how or why didn’t matter right now. She had to keep him safe, keep the spirit from getting to him. She hadn’t felt it yet, though, which also set her nerves on edge. Why was it taking so long to appear?

The door to the room opened, and she turned to see Hartway as he entered. His voice was still quiet, and he couldn’t seem to decide if he was speaking or singing these lines. “ _Little Lotte let her mind wander -_ Little Lotte thought, am I fonder of dolls or of gardens or swords? Or of riddles - ”

“Or birds!” Ashe chimed in, smiling just a little. He clearly wasn’t ready for this. She knew those weren’t the right lines, that he was using what he remembered from when they were children to fill in the gaps. “Those picnics in the garden,” she continued, thinking of her own memories leading her to say the wrong things as well. “Uncle playing the violin.”

Hartway visibly relaxed. It was encouraging, having her carry on like that. “As our wren urged us to sing with her.”

She could almost imagine Wren blushing backstage, if she wasn’t already too focused on keeping the play running straight to pay attention to the words she’d heard a dozen times already. Ashe knew she had to draw him back to the right lines. If she wasn’t careful, the spirit might go to him. It was nice, thinking of years ago, but not a good thing right now. “ _‘No, what I love best,’ Lotte said. ‘Is when I’m asleep in my bed and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head!’_ ”

“ _The Angel of Music sings songs in your head,_ ” Hartway repeated with her. He frowned for a minute, and Ashe thought it was a good thing the orchestra wasn’t used for this part. “You sang like an angel tonight.”

She nodded, giving him a gentle smile. They carried on with the scene, him insisting that they go to dinner and her protesting that she couldn’t. He rushed out as he said he needed his hat, at least getting that cue right. Ashe sat back down on the chair before Christine’s vanity, only to startle a moment later when she felt a chill down her spine. That would’ve been enough, because it came almost like a premonition, the same feeling she’d gotten with the whisper earlier. However much she hated it, she knew exactly what would happen next.

Ashe wanted to punch him. That was her first thought as the Phantom’s notes echoed throughout the theatre. She’d forgotten the assigned actor’s name, having only seen him in dress rehearsals and never out of costume, but it hardly mattered now. She clenched one hand into a fist at her side, hidden beneath the fabric of her dress.

“ _Insolent boy, this slave of order, basking in your fire!_ ” Markus was the one lurking behind the mirror instead, grinning slyly as he carried a tune and changed the line to suit his own needs. Were she not so furious, she’d probably be impressed - his song didn’t bring with it the same airy quality of her magic-laced one, and she couldn’t help but admit that he had to be doing it of his own talent.

She couldn’t tell if it was an illusion or glamour - or just him untransformed, although the thought of what that might look like “normally” never crossed her mind - as he lacked the added dangerous extremities she was used to. She could see his usual mask beneath the Phantom’s, and through vanity or fashion it certainly fit him.

Ashe took a breath, and forced her voice to sound pleading instead of impatient. She wanted to fight him, but couldn’t here. Not normally, anyways. Until the spirit showed itself, they’d have to play off of each other. “ _Angel, my soul was weak, forget him. Enter at last, spirit!_ ” Maybe a direct call would draw it out.

Markus chuckled before continuing. To the audience, it would sound chiding, a little appeasing. But Ashe knew it was a quiet promise - he wasn’t backing off. They’d have to compete with each other for the spirit, fighting in a way neither of them had expected. She hoped that Kyl’il’s magic would give her the boost she needed, even against whatever Markus had pulled to get himself here. “ _I am your Angel of Music. Come to me: Angel of Music._ ”

He took her by the wrist, still grinning, and pulled her back through the mirror. She could hear Hartway - Raoul - bang on the door, the sharp gasp of feigned surprise as he found the room to be empty.

Candles lit up the stage around them, and they set off across in a small boat, unlit lantern hanging off the front. The music, surprisingly, seemed to calm her, though if it was magic at work or the familiarity of the tune she couldn’t tell. Markus raised an eyebrow at her as she sang. If he was suspicious of her tone, he didn’t show it.

“ _Sing once again with me, our_ strange _duet. My power over you grows_ stronger _yet._ ” She didn’t miss the intonation in his words, either. _Strange_ was mocking, _stronger_ was fierce. He knew exactly where he stood and what impact his performance in this performance would cause.

Even with Kyl’il’s magic helping her, Ashe felt her throat nearly give out after those high notes. Though she didn’t want Markus to have the spotlight all to himself, her throat needed the rest - and it’s not like she could protest without the musical falling apart around them. The song called for her to follow the Phantom’s every movement, and with Markus beckoning for her to stand up, Ashe could tell this would be her least favorite scene.

“ _Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation._ ” Markus took hold of her hands gently - it was almost as if he cared - and started to guide her around the room. “ _Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses._ ” Ashe groaned internally as the scene hit her. Performing with the real phantom would have been awkward enough, acting entranced by his every word, as if he held the answers to every question she ever had. Now with Markus in his place, he only raised more questions. _Like how the hell he got here, and where the real Phantom is._

She let herself be led around the room, around candelabras and the large piano waiting at center stage. “ _Turn your face away from the garish light of day. Turn your face away from cold, unfeeling light… and listen to the music of the night._ ”

She realized closing her eyes would only help the scene, even if it was mostly to keep the audience from seeing her roll her eyes. Markus continued to ham up the scene; his fingers barely grazed across her shoulders as he sang, each of his movements fluid and sweeping. It nearly reminded her of their fights, although Markus was dragging it out and she had no real way to fight back.

“ _Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar._ ” She bit the inside of her lip, knowing all too well the meaning behind his emphasis.

Suddenly his hands were guiding her to turn around to face him. She thanked her lucky stars that Markus had it so her back was fully to the audience. It broke a rule of theater, but she was just glad she had the opportunity to sneer at Markus, if only for a second before he shifted their position again.

“ _In this darkness that you know you cannot_ fight, _the darkness of the music of the night._ ” They both knew he cut off ‘fight’ far too soon, but for them, it fit.

And, reluctantly, she collapsed in his arms, resisting the urge to snicker as he attempted to lift her - Ashe was certain the only reason he got close, muttering curses under his breath as he did so, was his own magic at work. He must’ve been transformed, then, with his mysterious boss casting similar magic to Kyl’il’s.

Christine took the Phantom’s mask, although its effect was dampened as Markus still wore his own black strip of cloth beneath.

“I’m keeping an eye on you,” she hissed to Markus as they made their way offstage and the notes of the next song began.

“What, afraid I’ll ruin the production?” He smirked, his voice just loud enough for her to hear but low enough for the music to cover to anyone else. “Ashe, even if I could take the spirit now and go on my way, I’d still stay. Don’t want to ruin the show for all of these _fine_ people.”

“I’m sure.”

“ _Who’d believe a diva, happy to relieve a chorus girl, who’s gone and slept with the patron? Raoul and the soubrette, entwined in love’s duet! Although he may demur, he must have been with her!_ ”

The great performance of “Prima Donna”, then the failed “Il Muto”.

_‘Don’t want to ruin the show,’ he says. More like he wants to inflate his ego._

So soon after she’d managed “Music of the Night”, she’d have to face the awkward display of -

Buquet’s body shadowed the stage. Everyone panicked, shrieking and screaming about the Phantom. Ashe ran to grab Hartway, feeling her own, real panic growing in her chest.

Hartway, for his part, seemed to have become a bit more comfortable in his role. “ _We must return!_ ”

Ashe shook her head. “ _Those eyes will find us there, those eyes that burn!_ ” She was scared for him, like she’d been scared for Selena before, or even - however little - for that possessed girl on Halloween. If she had her way, he wouldn’t be on stage with her, but he was, so all she could think to do was let her emotions run wild - even if it did mean she messed up a few lines.

Hartway grabbed her and turned her to face him. He was worried about her, looking directly at her, his brow furrowed but the rest of his expression as gentle as he could make it. “ _Forget this waking nightmare. This Phantom is a fable._ ”

Ashe barely started her next line on time, wrenching away from him. He was kind, and strong in his way, but she didn’t want to put him at risk too. She had to keep her focus up. They both kept up the rest of the song, until they got to the roof, but it was a near thing. It wasn’t the love Raoul had for Christine in Gregor’s lines, but worry over a friend keeping a secret. It was too close, she had to keep him on track.

How could she make him understand the danger he was in? “ _Raoul, I’ve been there. To the world of unending night. To a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness, monsters…_ ” Ashe felt like she actually might start crying. Over and over again, she couldn’t protect her friends, and now she couldn’t even properly make one stay away! Even channeling her very real distress, she couldn’t draw that spirit to her.

She finished Christine’s lines quietly, unsure of herself. “ _…Those pleading eyes, that both threaten and adore._ ”

Hartway stepped towards her, reached out to grab her shoulder. Nervously withdrew, and turned away as the music for the next song started. “ _No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears!_ ” He took a few steps as he sang, quickly becoming louder. “ _Let me be your freedom!_ ” He threw his arms out excitedly, and then dashed back over to her, taking one of her hands in both of his, earnest but with a teasing grin instead of a pleading one.

He was clearly acting silly to cheer her up, and it worked a little. Ashe let out a quiet chuckle, caught up in the detective’s energy. It was sort of amazing, how authentic he could be despite how obviously unprepared he was for tonight - or maybe because of that? He didn’t feel the same need to uphold theater traditions as the normal actors would. “ _Promise me that all you say is true,_ ” she sang, very much wishing in that moment that she could let him protect her, instead of shouldering all of this herself.

He nodded. “ _Let me be your shelter, let me be your knight. You’re safe, no one will harm you. Your fears are far behind you._ ” Hartway kneeled before her, jokingly acting out the part of a chivalrous knight.

Ashe bit back another laugh, and tugged on his arm until he stood up. She wanted to tell him - “ _All I want is freedom, a world all filled with light._ ” If only she didn’t have to be a Spirit Thief, if only she could go back to being just Kelly -

“ _Anywhere you go, let me go too._ ” Hartway’s voice was quieter again, and he pulled her to him. Awkwardly, he led her in a slow waltz across the stage. It was off-tempo from the music, and not at all their actual stage directions, but it was definitely comforting. It almost, _almost_ made Ashe want to tell him about everything.

The music swelled for the kiss, and she sighed, knowing that she couldn’t even begin to explain things. It would put him in harm’s way, because she knew he’d want to help her with it all. She let her head rest against his shoulder, and Hartway stopped as well, embracing her tightly. At least there was that much, a bit of comfort and warmth that she could enjoy before going back to her fight.

They each stepped back to look at each other, and finished the song properly. “ _Anywhere you go, let me go too. Love me, that’s all I ask of you…_ ”

They rushed off the stage, and shared a brief look of awkward distaste at making romantic professions to each other. Hartway looked about to say something, but Ashe shook her head as Markus started his reprise. She had to get in place for the final scene of the act, and somewhere she might be able to keep an eye on Markus.

She hurried away from him, before she could give in to that urge to share his honesty, to bring him into her world like he’d begged her to - like Raoul wanted Christine to.

She changed as quickly and reluctantly as she could, glad for the assistance from backstage, then moved out with the others. The ensemble of _Il Muto_ now stood together, in costume, and Ashe had to resist every urge to just rip the damn thing _off_. They were only together for this bit for all of a minute, and yet she’d been forced into Carlotta’s outfit and it’s stupid headdress-hat-thing. Clothing designed to look historic definitely didn’t have comfort in mind when being made, even for a production such as this one.

As the music rose to a crescendo, she could see a figure. A silhouette waited, perched on the chandelier - which, admittedly, was impressive, with its small size. The Phantom laughed manically, voice calling out across the theatre as the chandelier began to swing, its chains creaking with uncertainty. “ _Go!_ ”

It was only supposed to glow, like it had when it had first risen to the top of the theatre. There had been no time to check the safeties, no time to ensure _their_ safety, but Markus -

The lights flickered, and puffs of smoke erupted as the chandelier sparked. Everyone gave a collective gasp as the great candelabra shuddered and collapsed, dropping down to the orchestra pit. Instruments shrieking and stands clattering sounded as the pit tried to move, all of them startled. Set crew yelled out from backstage, shocked enough to break the rules of unseen and unheard. Ashe was almost pulled along by her fellow actors as they dove behind the curtain, but her anger overrode her panic. _What the hell is he thinking?_

Moments before it would have impacted, the safeties caught. The chandelier hung mere inches above the stage, waiting almost at Ashe’s feet.

The lights cut to black for intermission. She scowled. The figure was gone.

—–

Ashe raced back to her dressing room. She had to get some water and some other stuff, and then had maybe ten minutes to try and find Markus and get him to back out of this. She bustled about, complaining to Dont the whole time. “I still can’t sense it! Everything’s all muddled, and it could be on anyone! I can’t think straight, not with both of them here. I either want to knock Markus on his ass, or tell Gregor to get the hell out of here, and somehow in the middle I have to remember to actually perform!” She paused for breath, then realized she wasn’t getting the usual chorus of acknowledging noises that Dont tended to make.

She looked around, and found the pigbat curled up on a chair. Her wings were stretched forward awkwardly, covering her ears. “Dont? You okay?”

“It’s loud,” Dont whined. “I’m sorry, Ashe. I can’t, there’s too much power here, too much emotion from years and years of performances…” She whimpered. “Wherever it is, it’s definitely feeding on something! At least, the corrupted part of it is being held off. It either got someone who doesn’t have a major part, or someone who just wants the show to go well… or something like that? It doesn’t have any anger or spite to draw on at the moment, like we feared with this show.”

Ashe nodded, kneeling in front of the chair so she could look Dont in the eye. “Are you going to be okay? You can go home, if it gets too much for you. You can’t stay with me in case all the magic means normals can see you here, so you might as well go be comfortable.”

Dont whimpered, but nodded. “I might just - thank you, Ashe. I’ll be alright. Stay alert!” She uncovered her ears, then looked around in confusion and without focus. “The audience is enjoying things,” she said. “And the crew is worried, and the other actors are all yelling at Director Yoroch for not stopping this. None of them think your presence is odd, though, so Miss Kyl’il’s magic must be holding.”

Ashe nodded and gave Dont a scratch behind the ears. “Thank you. That’s a bit of a relief. You get home as soon as you can, alright? I’ll handle things here.” She got to her feet, and left her dressing room. She could think clearly for what felt like the first time in hours. She couldn’t do anything to make Gregor leave, and all she could do about the spirit was keep trying to draw it into the open. But if she could find Markus, and chase him off, and find out what had happened to the actual actor for the Phantom, that’d make things so much easier.

She paused, debating on where to start her search. But before she could decide anything, there was a voice down the hall.

“Kelly!” Wren rushed up to her, laughing. “You’re doing great out there, you know that? Gregor’s a bit of a wash, but I think the audience likes him. There’s a critic in the back row, and I heard her talking to her neighbor as I was leaving the sound booth - she said this feels like one of the most authentic shows she’s been to in years! Isn’t it great?”

Ashe nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Look, Wren, I have to-”

Her cousin shook her head. “You’re probably best staying in your room until intermission’s over. The director’s yellin’ at Gregor right now for getting off-track so easily, but if he sees you he might start all over again. That, and set crew’s whispering about the Phantom, both on stage and what we’ve been seeing here. Probably best not to let their fright catch, right?” She held up an energy drink, and a granola bar. “I even came to keep you company and make sure you were all set for the rest of this.”

“I… thanks, Wren.” Ashe sighed, and stepped back towards her dressing room. She opened the door slowly, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw Dont wasn’t in sight anymore. “You might as well come sit down, then.”

—–

Masquerade, at first, was enjoyable. Dancing and singing, weaving and spinning across the stage as though it were a real party, like the one she’d missed on Halloween. The part with Raoul and their engagement was, understandably, tense - the same feeling of uncertainty, that he was reading too well between the lines, that their own story was seeping into the performance.

“ _Masquerade! Seething shadows, breathing lies. Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you!_ ”

And then Markus appeared, proudly dressed as Red Death, feathered hat and cloak reminding her ferociously of blood. _“I advise you to comply - my instructions should be clear. Remember, there are worse things than a shattered chandelier._ ” He looked directly at Ashe as he spoke, and when he pulled the engagement ring from its chain around her throat, she was not to be deterred. She held his ever-grinning gaze, standing her ground even as a plume of smoke erupted and he vanished.

Raoul acquired assistance from Madame Giry as to where the Phantom had come from. The managers, plus Carlotta and Piangi, gathered to discuss the the opera they were now to perform at the Phantom’s insistence.

“This isn’t my fault! I don’t want any part in this plot!”

Perhaps it came across too honestly, as Hartway sounded sincere when he continued, “Christine, Christine. You don’t have to, they can’t make you.” _But I need to, anyway._

They decided to catch the Phantom. Chorus rehearsal went awry, though more from Carlotta’s scathing comments and Piangi’s pronunciation than the Phantom’s perseverance. The scene began to change around her as she sang, moving further upstage with each note.

“ _You were once my one companion. You were all that mattered. You were once a friend and father - and then my world was shattered._ ”

It was an eerie mausoleum, the thinnest lines of fog drifting over the edge of the stage. Gravestones were lined up and down beside her as she kneeled before the large cross, head low, mouth open in song.

The words coming out of Ashe’s mouth were, to be quite frank, almost entirely bullshit. Her father wasn’t dead, and neither did she miss him - granted, he was kind enough to allow her to stay with her mother’s family in America for school instead of with him in Europe, but it had taken many weeks of arguing, pleading, and bargaining to get that in the first place.

“ _Too many years, fighting back tears. Why can’t the past just die?_ ”

At least that bit she could agree with.

“ _Wandering child, so lost, so helpless. Yearning for my guidance…_ ” Honestly, she was sick of Markus by now. Didn’t he know when to quit? Couldn’t they just give up on this whole charade? Why didn’t he just _fuck off?_

“ _Angel, or father. Friend, or Phantom?_ ” He’d proven himself a decent person a couple times by now, and then he just ruined it. He’d nearly killed them all, and for whatever reason the director had decided to continue with the musical. _Why do I even bother?_

Ashe knew Hartway was watching them, as together they continued the demented duet. She could sense the spirit, but they were already more than halfway through the musical and it had yet to manifest. Markus didn’t have it, else its magic would’ve worn off their performance. _What’s going on?_

As she rose from the ground and moved toward Markus, Hartway cried out on cue, “Angel of darkness! Cease this torment!” The words had such an impact, as if he himself believed it - had he already picked up on the fact that Aesling and Kelly were the same person, or who Markus was? Or had Hartway finally gotten into the role?

She moved to the detective as Christine broke free from the Phantom’s spell. He put one hand on her shoulder, and there was genuine concern in his eyes as he watched Markus, who drew a sword from his cloak.

Ashe resisted the urge to swear vibrantly. The damn thing wasn’t a prop.

Gregor drew his own, the dim spotlight catching it in a way that seemed almost unusual. It was plastic, bent and stilted in just the right sense to make it seem realistic - and then, _of course,_ a spark of purple caught the edge and ran down the blade, leaving him with a very real, dangerous sword and a bizarrely serious look on his face.

“Bravo, monsieur! Such spirited words!” Markus dove forward, and was clearly surprised when Hartway expertly parried it. He narrowed his eyes and struck again, but the Detective was relentless in his defense. Each blow landed with the sharp clang of metal-on-metal, and Ashe simply took a couple steps back as the two dueled it out, unsure of what she could do to stop this on-stage trainwreck.

_So that’s where the spirit went._ She should’ve been shocked, but it made sense now. Hartway’s flubbing of lines, the way she got caught up in her scenes with him, somehow she’d almost forgotten to consider the circumstances. A cold fury settled over her, and renewed determination to get this spirit - too many of her friends kept being affected by these things.

The two were so focused on their fight that neither said anything, abandoning the impact of words for action. It simply took a misplaced attack for Hartway to turn the fight in his favor - he batted the Devil Thief’s hand back expertly, and knocked the blade from his grip, before roughly shoving him to the ground with his shoulder.

He held the edge of his sword mere inches from Markus’ throat, and Markus actually looked frightened by this unexpected aggression.

Ashe put one hand on Hartway’s shoulder. “Gregor,” she hissed, although it sounded torn between a cough and a hiccup as the magic bit at her words. And then, louder, “Come back.”

He kept his eyes locked on Markus for one last, long moment, before resheathing the sword. She moved her hand to his arm and guided him off stage, though as she glanced back at Markus, she could see fury building in his eyes.

“So be it. Now let it be war upon you _both._ ” He glanced to the audience, then smirked and waved one hand.

The entire front of the stage erupted momentarily in fire. Panicked whispers began behind the curtain, and a gasp went up from the room. When the smoke cleared, he was gone.

—–

Raoul and the others prepared for the opening of _Don Juan Triumphant_. Markus mocked them with well-placed teleportation, voice darting around the theatre as the Phantom’s should. Still, his last words before the next scene began ran a chill down Ashe’s spine:

“ _Seal my fate tonight - I hate to have to cut the fun short, but the joke’s wearing thin. Let the audience in. Let my opera begin!_ ”

The ballerinas danced, then shuffled offstage. The stage was lit by dancing flame, an eerie glow settling on all who stepped upon it. Piangi, originally dressed as Don Juan, was replaced stealthily by the Phantom.

Ashe took a couple careful steps towards the center of the stage, humming a little song. She undid her cloak and sat down at the table, then considered the apple that sat amongst the fruit basket there.

“ _You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish, which till now has been silent, silent._ ”

_I think we both know exactly how creepy this song is,_ she thought to herself as Markus stalked about the stage, cowl of his cloak just barely hiding his face. _And how little either of us mean it._

“ _Past the point of no return - no backward glances. The games we’ve played till now are at an end._ ” There was that same… _certainty_. That same stupid arrogance, that same fury, and it was ticking Ashe off more and more. The way he laced their rivalry into his delivery, tried to belittle and control her. She was glad the play was almost over, and was certain she could win this.

She glossed over the next lines, instead watching Markus as she sang. He had a look in his eye that she didn’t like, a smirk that she could sense even beneath the cowl.

“ _Past the point of no return, the final threshold - the bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn. We’ve passed the point of no return._ ”

He stood beside her, and handed her a ring. “ _Say you want me with you, here beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go, too. Christine, that’s all I ask of -_ “

Ashe reached up, calmly, and put two fingers behind Markus’ mask. She had only an instant to make her next choice ( _Don’t do it you’ll regret it don’t don’t don’t_ ), and she knew what she had to do ( _He’ll hate you he’ll hurt you there’s no choice here to be made!_ ).

When she pulled back with it, she had to suppress a sound - of surprise, or confusion - at what she saw beneath. Markus had made no effort to apply makeup or other costume trick to portray the Phantom’s face; he hadn’t expected her to take the mask he wore beneath the prop, she could tell by the expression he bore, one of hatred, detestation, _loathing_ that actually instilled a fear within her.

Inky lines like veins twisted and wove around his eyes, usually barely hidden by the mask. They seemed to glow slightly, to pulse with the same dark energy that he was so fond of.

His appearance flickered slightly, as did the dim glow around the veins. She could see his horns, claws, tail and teeth all stutter into existence and then disappear almost instantly.

There was only that instant to study him as the crowd gasped on cue, and Markus didn’t even apply the dramatic flair she would expect. He simply grabbed her wrist, nails driving into it like the claws she was sure he wished he had - she was glad it was her other wrist that was burned in their previous fight - and pulled her offstage.

“Are you sure you want to continue with this?” she muttered as he guided her, roughly, back to the boat that would “lead” them across the underground lake. On stage, Piangi was found dead amidst Carlotta’s wailing. Madame Giry repeated to Raoul the trick to confronting the Phantom: keep one hand at the level of his eyes.

“Of course I do.” Markus finally released her arm as he went to put his mask back on, though still his eyes glinted - not with the passionate fire that she was used to, nor the fury she’d seen mere moments before, but instead a deep, angry hunger as a murky cloud came over them, like the calm before a storm. They pushed off along the ghostly mist that passed for water. Markus sang, though his voice seemed to be filled with more anger and longing than the Phantom’s embittered self-hatred.

The mob descended, searching for the Phantom, though they couldn’t quite find him yet. Raoul separated from Giry as he continued on in search of Christine.

“ _Track down this murderer - he must be found! Hunt out this animal, who runs to ground! Too long he’s preyed on us, but now we know: the Phantom of the Opera is there, deep down below._ ”

Markus dragged her from the boat, his grip strangely lighter. He went to do as the Phantom should, though his movements seemed robotic and rehearsed. _Did the spirit move to him? If it did, I can’t sense it, but I don’t know if I could against all that dark energy anyway._

They each continued in time, and he placed the bridal veil on her head, though she was suddenly too distracted to pay attention as she remembered what came next. This was his last chance, and oh what a chance it was.

“ _This haunted face holds no horror for me now. It’s in your soul that the true distortion lies,_ ” she said, calmly and coldly. Another line that was far from a lie.

Ashe saw Hartway over Markus’ shoulder. He moved to stand at the strange portcullis contraption that had been set up.

“ _Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest!_ ” The sudden bite behind Markus’ words sent another chill down her spine as he spun to face the Detective. _What do I do? What_ can _I do?_ “ _Sir, this is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you would come - and now my wish comes true. You have truly made my night.“_

Raoul - Hartway - pleaded to save Christine. Markus let him in, and before he could take but two steps -

“ _Monsieur, I bid you welcome! Did you think that I would harm her? Why should I make her pay for the sins which are_ yours?” Markus’ voice seemed almost teasing, suddenly ecstatic in his anger, as if he was feeding off of it now.

It was supposed to be fake, to be slight, there was supposed to be no harm to be had. But instead, he eschewed the odds, like he had with the sword-fight - it was her whip in his grasp, slung around Gregor’s neck, pulled hard, too tight, as the detective grabbed at it in sudden surprise and fear. He was breathing, she could see, but she doubted he could speak, let alone sing.

“ _Order your fine horses now! Raise up your hand to the level of your eyes! Nothing can save you now, except perhaps_ Christine.”

His next words came, and there she could sense the magic. Gregor still had the spirit within him, and it continued to run through their notes as they sang.

“ _Start a new life with me. Buy his freedom with your soul. Refuse me, and you send your lover to his death! This is the choice. This is the point of no return!_ ” There was a real offer there, but whatever it meant just eluded her. It could’ve been the spirit’s waning power as it tried to keep each of them straight, enchantment easily bleeding into their words as they conversed through song.

It took her a moment to respond, biting back bitterly and earnestly, “ _The tears I might have shed for your dark fate grow cold, and turn to tears of hate._ ” Hartway couldn’t sing. She picked up his words, surprising even herself as she did so. “ _Please forgive him, please release him. He did it all for love, and all for nothing…_ ” There was no way to manage two parts at once, though now the words were tearing themselves from her throat. She couldn’t stop, and now that she knew how it felt, she sensed the spirit reaching for her as well. “ _Farewell my fallen idol and false friend. One by one, I’ve watched illusions shattered._ ”

Markus’ smirk only seemed to grow. A line of darkness, however brief, chased its way down the whip’s rope. Terror painted her expression as she ran one hand over the still-fading burn on her wrist. She knew exactly what he meant, even before he continued his part. “ _Past all hope of cries for help, no point in fighting - for either way you choose, I have to win. So, do you give your soul to me, or do you send him to his grave?_ ”

“ _Why make me lie to you to save him?_ Angel _of music._ ” Disdain flickered across his face. Her use of the term was not lost on him.

“ _Past the point of no return -_ ”

“For goodness’ sake, you can still turn back!” She hissed, and continued. “ _Why this torment?_ ”

“ _\- the final threshold._ ”

“ _Don’t throw away his life for my heart - when will you see reason?_ ” _This is insane…_

“ _His life is now the prize which you must earn._ ” _You know the deal. Take it or leave it._

“ _He fought to do what’s right._ ” With every line, her bitterness grew. Whether it was the spirit pulling on her or not didn’t matter. He wasn’t just threatening her, he was threatening another person. A policeman. _Her friend._ And she’d promised not to let it happen again.

“ _We’ve passed the point of no return._ ”

“ _Angel of Music… You deceived me._ I gave my mind blindly.” _I thought there was something good in you._

They stared at in each other in wordless contempt, Markus silently daring her to try something, anything. She knew what would happen if she did. “You try my patience. Make your _choice._ ”

Ashe kept her gaze locked with his, then took a deep breath and a couple steps towards Hartway.

She reached one hand out for his chest, and Markus pulled the whip ever so slightly tighter. She flinched, but continued, looking into Hartway’s eyes. The Thief bit her lip as her hand clenched into a fist, pulling it towards her own chest and turning back towards her rival. She stepped before him and held the same hand out, as though she were offering her heart. The energy of the spirit, however she longed to purify it, bit at her palm, a cold feeling she couldn’t even quite place.

And then, quietly, “ _Pitiful creature of darkness. What kind of life have you known?_ ”

He took her hand, then slid it against his own chest, still grinning. She felt the spirit pry away from her grasp. He wasn’t bothered by her anger and bitterness, not when he’d already won. The orchestra faltered for an instant, so slight it wouldn’t have been heard if one wasn’t looking for it, and repeated their parts over again. _We’re like puppets for this spirit’s demented performance._ The magic still hung in the air, and she could feel it as he stole her line, sounding smug from his victory.

“ _Have courage, my dear and show me that I’m not alone._ ” Still gripping her hand, he pulled it back and therefore her forward, into him. Markus wrapped his arm around her waist, let go of her hand, and pulled her in for a kiss.

The music was bright, beautiful and cheerful, though it showed in neither of the actors. Ashe’s eyes smoldered with hatred as he drew back from her, and the Devil Thief seemed to actually falter for a moment, though it was quickly replaced with the same burning passion as before. She glanced to the detective and then back to him. After a second that seemed to last a century, he flicked the whip and the rope undid itself. It vanished in a plume of violet smoke, lost amidst the darkness of the scene. Behind them, Hartway’s expression shifted from horror to relief as he hurriedly gasped for air.

She could feel the magic of the spirit wearing off, and with it, the desire to continue the play. She could see bruises already starting to form on Hartway’s throat. Ashe sensed Markus’ eyes on her and turned to glare at him one final time as she rushed to the detective’s side. She put one arm around him and he looked at her in silent appreciation, although it was also tinged by confusion.

The mob continued their chanting, oblivious. “ _Who is this monster, this murdering beast? Revenge for Piangi! Revenge for Buquet! This creature must never go free._ ”

Markus glanced to either side of the stage, then back to her. He mouthed to her, an expression torn between anger and reluctance for the instant she caught it, and then disappeared in his usual fanfare - a twirl of his cloak, a puff of smoke, and a crack - as she saw security guards emerge from offstage.

There was no way she would believe that, or accept it. There was nothing to be said, no reasoning to be had, and nothing but bitterness and hatred to shed for that _stupid fucking -_

She was done with Markus. She was done with his bullshit, was done with his mysterious “boss”, and was certainly finished with him hurting those closest to her. If he so much as showed up to the next spirit, there would be hell to pay.

The production fell apart around them. Hushed, panicked whispers spread like wildfire, and all the higher-ups assembled together as if passing some great judgement upon the theatre. It was the spirit’s magic wearing off, she assumed, and everyone was starting to realize that everything weird that happened tonight was, in fact, weird, although the audience applauded it. She just hoped it didn’t affect Kyl’il’s magic, as well.

As soon as the curtain fell and she got Hartway help - although a dozen staff rushed forward to assist her as she helped him to his feet - she would leave. She wanted to put tonight out of her mind, have a selfish moment and space just for herself.

…Even so, those two silent words echoed through her mind in whatever way they could as the duo made their way offstage. Each thought, each beat of the syllables pounding like a drum only seemed to feed her fury.

“ _I’m sorry._ ”


	11. Sucks To Be You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe and Markus’ rivalry comes to a head as they have to deal with each other in the most cliché way possible.

It was sudden, but hardly startling. Ashe’s hand wrapped tightly around Markus’s collar and slammed his back into the wall before he could even think about teleporting, which made for a strange sight as he had a few inches on her. “ _What were you thinking?!_ ” she demanded. “This is our fight. Do whatever you want to me, but don’t bring innocents into this.”

“Whatever I want is a pretty big offer.” He grinned at her. Her expression didn’t change. “I thought all bets were off the moment you ripped off my mask?”

“I don’t think even _you_ believe that.”

“And what, exactly, did I do that was so terrible?”

_“I’m sorry,”_ played in her head again. Ashe grit her teeth. She was right not to trust that.

The entire way to the museum, she had been thinking about what had happened at the opera, and what Markus did.

How he’d shown no hesitance for even a _second_ when he was preparing to kill Gregor if she didn’t give him the spirit. How he’d used the play to _kiss_ her just to add to her humiliation. How even after she gave him the spirit he’d seemed like he was thinking about it for several seconds before releasing the detective. How he’d tried to act like he was remorseful but never once glanced at the bruise around Gregor’s neck, just her. He had treated a life like _collateral damage_ , used a human being as a bargaining chip, and only seemed to care when the after effects disrupted his fun.

By the time Ashe arrived, she was furious. She didn’t even look for the spirit, instead going straight after Markus, leaving Dont outside - she’d leapt toward him, and by the time Markus had registered the sound of footfalls and turned around, he was already in her grip.

Markus was still smiling. Her fist tightened and she pressed harder, wishing she could just shove him through the wall. “You almost murdered the detective just to get a spirit. That’s a line I was pretty sure you wouldn’t cross.”

Markus’s grin finally dropped, expression shifting to one of irritation. “Up until now, this whole ‘being nice’ thing? It’s been nothing but courtesy. You see, _Aesling_ , you might need to wake up and realize that this thing we do - breaking into places and stealing spirits? It doesn’t _have_ rules. I have two orders. To get the spirits, whatever it takes, and, surprisingly, _not_ to kill you. Everything else is just collateral.“

Ashe took a half-step forward and switched her grip so her other forearm was pressed against his throat, and with her now-free left hand she summoned the Sword of the Shrine, snapping her first binding without hesitation and transforming the blade - metal gave way to angry sparks of crackling green electricity as she pressed the tip of it into his side. “Well, I don’t have that order. So if you ever try something like that again - ”

Her threat was cut short when pain erupted across her stomach and she gasped, bending forward. Her forearm slipped away from Markus’s neck and down his chest as she tried to stay upright while her knees shook and spots danced before her eyes. As the world slowly slid back into focus, she saw his left hand pressed flat against her stomach and realized that he had shoved a shadow blast point-blank into her body. Thus far they’d only been surface wounds, but the pain of this one was so intense she couldn’t even feel his palm resting against her body.

His other hand came up to grip her right wrist and move the Sword’s point off of his suit, the thin tips of his claws began to dig into her flesh.

“Like I said, I _have_ been nice. Maybe it’s time I stopped.”

Ashe let a second binding loose, using the renewed energy from that to wrench away from him. She held where he attacked her, feeling the pain ebb a little as her magic attempted to heal it. It didn’t do a lot to help, but at least it wasn’t as much of a distraction now. “And maybe it’s time I chased you off for good,” she retorted.

She gathered an attack in her free hand, weaving and bending it into a crackling dagger of green energy. She lobbed it at him and watched as it skimmed past, Markus choosing to dive to the side instead of relying on his old trick of teleporting. The whip appeared in his grip as he moved, and he lashed out at her.

Ashe cut through the strike easily, the lightning surrounding her blade burning through what the edge missed. Still, she couldn’t take any time to appreciate the moment, knowing the whip would reform itself easily enough. She moved in again, sending lightning arcing towards Markus.

The Devil Thief teleported, appearing right behind her. Ashe heard him just in time, turning to strike, but only wound up parrying his purple rapier, which was aimed directly at her heart.

“What happened to not killing me?” she growled.

“We’re both hardier than normal humans,” he answered, his words just as poisonous as his blade. “And really, ‘alive’ doesn’t have to include ‘awake’ or ‘mobile’.” He moved forward as he tried to press another of his shadow blasts at her, but she was paying attention this time.

Ashe broke away from him, knocking his blade aside and carelessly throwing another of her daggers at him to give herself a bit of extra room. He dodged, even though it wouldn’t have hurt anything major had it landed. They stood across from each other, carefully poised on either side of the floor medallion. It was illuminated by a thin sliver of the moon from the skylight above, the light barely touching either of them.

They circled, each brandishing a sword in one hand and wisps of magical energy in the other.

“I didn’t think you’d want to dance again so soon,” Markus said with a smirk. It sounded like one of his usual jibes, but it was missing his regular condescending playfulness. He was all menace now, tail swishing behind him as he looked for any possible opening.

Ashe’s eyes narrowed, and her ears twitched slightly. “I’m not letting you win again. Like I said, you’ve gone too far.” It didn’t matter that he’d rescued one of her friends, or that he tried to apologize, or that he hadn’t hurt anyone on Halloween save her; she’d seen his true face, the power quite literally corrupting him. None of it meant _anything_.

She kept her eyes on him, although something was tugging at the edge of her mind. Not the pain from his attack, but something else. She could almost hear something, like the hiss of water over something hot, but it was barely a whisper to her. The floor under her feet shook slightly - the rumble from a passing train, the warning roar of a distant thunderstorm, but too distant and slight to be real. She wrote them off as ghost sensations, her heightened senses playing tricks on her as she acclimatized to them.

Markus tensed slightly, before disappearing with a crack. Ashe heard him reappear, but further away, not the close attack she’d expected. There was a deep humming sound and she jumped on instinct to avoid - not a shadow blast?

Instead, some sort of extreme pressure, a contained wave of air, slammed down where she’d been. It was strong enough to make a small dent in the floor. Ashe whirled around, focusing her sight. Now that she thought to check for it, she could see the searing white power of a spirit, tinges of other, darker colors creeping in amidst its glow. Narrowing her eyes, she rushed towards it, hoping Markus didn’t have enough of a head start on her.

She ran into one of the small painting galleries, which was currently showcasing works based around the sea and its monsters. The Thief looked around, trying to pinpoint the spirit, quickly forcing herself to stop, drop, and roll forward as she heard a muffled humming followed by another pillar of force.

Markus hung in one of the corners of the ceiling, sword replaced with the whip, brilliant blue eyes darting around the room with a mixture of care and irritation. He didn’t have enough of a vantage point to actually see the paintings, even if he was somewhat safe and hidden there, and this spirit’s attacks didn’t seem to line up with any single origin point.

Ashe got to her feet and turned, following the aura of light. The spirit was in a portrait this time, directly next to the gallery door. It featured a mermaid sitting on a rock, waves lapping at her fins, looking more predatory than beautiful. Her face featured narrow eyes and something akin to a short beak, her hands ending in talons. More of the “luring men into the sea to drown them” sort than a cheerful fairy tale creature.

As Ashe watched the painting, the siren opened her mouth. Another hum, another burst of energy - some sort of sonic boom, she realized. She moved to the side, turning as she did, trying to play this smart. If Markus saw her staring, if he knew where the spirit was, he could take it while she was avoiding its attacks. And if she took it immediately, he might just leave before they could settle this.

For once, Markus seemed content not to taunt her - he was too focused. He was well and truly playing the coward, trying to pinpoint the source of the spirit but not wanting to risk himself.

She took advantage of his distraction. Aesling dodged once more, but this time threw one of her lightning daggers at him as she did. He disappeared, and Ashe rushed at the painting. Even with it being hard to find, it was slow to react, and only seemed to have the one attack at its disposal. It was weak. She touched the canvas, sending purifying energy through it in a flash of green.

No time to take in her victory, or see what changes she’d caused. Ashe whirled about, her ears flicking back and forth slightly as she heard him breathing, trying to get his own bearings. _He must’ve reappeared just in time to be blinded by the purification!_ A fierce grin crossed her face, and she raised her sword - now a mixture of metal and energy - to bring down where he knelt beside her.

Markus opened his eyes with enough time to see her, though, and struck back with the whip. He fed some of his magic into it as he did, roiling in bursts and surging through the fibers of it. It wrapped around her sword, the lightning unable to scorch through with the energy acting as a shield.

They stood like that, staring each other down, caught in a mirror of their first meeting. Markus didn’t try to punch her as she had then, instead feeding more magic into the whip. The dark energy twisted and wove with it, dyeing the white of it black as it had twice before. “You still have no idea who you’re messing with,” he snarled.

“I don’t care. You’re not causing any more harm.” Ashe reached for her own magic, the same that she used to form the daggers with. Sharp and stinging, far from the guiding warmth of her other powers. She tried pushing that through the sword, trying to match Markus’ tactics.

The green lightning and shadowy fire twined through each other, fighting to gain ground against the other. As the shadows jumped and curled their way into the air, the sparks would bite at them until they both died down some. Ashe was having trouble maintaining the sword’s hybrid form with so much energy focused in it, and the pain from his first attack was starting to break through her healing. At the same time, Markus also looked exhausted, his breath short and the energy catching in twisted bunches like knots along the length of the whip.

A bolt of lightning sparked to his hand in the same moment that a tendril of shadow shot at her, and as their respective magics found a target, all of the energy released. An explosion of sparking fire - white and black, purple and green, before settling into a cool, translucent blue - surrounded them, leaving long phantom burns around the walls that quickly faded away and cracking the tiles below.

Ashe blacked out from sensory overload, her skin burning and her ears filled with the roar of the explosion and then the singing of shattering glass. She came to for a moment, long enough to see a small shape flying towards her from the main lobby, to realize she’d been thrown from the gallery itself. She tried to move, but it was too much effort. Pain enveloped her body, a sharp pounding that couldn’t be ignored, and her head felt like a bell, endlessly ringing. She sank into a deeper unconsciousness.

—

Hartway peered through the museum door’s shattered glass panes. As part of the investigation, he was supposed to stop by every night to check on the state of the place, and it certainly wouldn’t be unusual if either of the thieves were inside, considering the sheer frequency of their break-ins. And, tonight, something clearly wasn’t right. They never left this much obvious damage - well, there was that one time with the vase. But that was before he’d joined the case officially, and so he inched forwards, one hand resting warily near his gun.

Sure enough, he could see something - a figure? - inside the building, but it was impossible to tell who or _what_ it was. The odd events of the play had left him edgy, and strengthened his suspicions about all of this being exceedingly dangerous instead of just weird. Suspicions that his friend was involved in it somehow. The thought of Kelly Garren, lying in pain on the cold museum floor, flickered briefly through his mind. He tried to shake it off, knowing he needed to keep focused.

Carefully, he climbed into the museum. Flashlight in one hand and gun resting on it in his other, he approached the figure.

To his relief, it wasn’t Kelly, although the person was out cold, and he hesitantly knelt to get a better look. It was a man, about college age, passed out on the ground. _Might’ve been drunk and stumbled in here when he heard noises,_ the detective mused. _Or somehow got caught up in the fight._ Something had obviously happened, since the floor was dented in a few places, and he could smell something faintly like sulfur drifting in from one of the nearby galleries.

Returning his attention to his new charge, Hartway shuddered. The man’s blond hair and build reminded Hartway distantly of the Phantom - though it was clearly a different person, as evident by the lack of strange dark lines covering his face, which he’d seen only briefly from the shadows of the stage. _Unless that was make-up,_ he thought, but remembering the look on the Phantom’s face, somehow he doubted that.

“I’ll get you home first,” he decided. “Then come back and check what was stolen this time.”

After a quick check of the man’s wallet (he felt kinda bad doing it, but, really, it was better than getting the stranger arrested for trespassing when he’d hardly done anything wrong) he found, of all things, a hotel keycard. The hotel in question was only a couple blocks away, so it wasn’t _that_ improbable that the stranger could have wandered in.

Hartway sighed, and picked up the blond man, struggling for a moment as he tried to keep him balanced across his shoulders. Even though the man was light, he was somewhat taller than the detective and it was slightly awkward to carry him.

Another minute or two of fumbling ensued as he attempted to get through the doors of the museum without dropping him, but the detective eventually managed. “Alright, worst part of it is over. Just gotta make it to the hotel.”

He could’ve sworn that the man’s eyes twitched for a moment at the sound of his voice, but a second later he was still again, save for his slow, steady breathing.

—

Aesling’s mind was cloudy, like an overcast on a spring day. She couldn’t remember going to bed last night, or what she had been dreaming about, though she could’ve sworn that there had been _something_ to do with Gregor…

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

The first thing she noticed when she woke up was a startling amount of pain, like all of her bones were bruised or she’d pulled multiple muscles at once. She gradually remembered that last night’s fight had been intense, although the details eluded her. The second thing she noticed, opening her eyes, was that the ceiling was wrong. It was white, and didn’t have its usual uneven texture. She’d gotten so used to the same ugly mint green greeting her eyes every morning.

Carefully, she sat up.

The room was most definitely different than her bedroom. She had to squint to see all of it, but that much was clear. The bed was a double, with a lot of fluffy pillows and a heavy comforter. There was a small couch, sitting beneath a wide window and overlooking a familiar city’s skyline. A miniature kitchenette sat in the corner of the room, and a desk in the opposite corner hosted a fancy laptop, left open.

She swung herself out of bed and onto her feet, before immediately almost falling flat on her face. Catching herself on the nightstand, she noticed that she was… taller. By a significant amount, not like the kind of half-inch a growth spurt would cause.

It was slightly disconcerting.

"Dont?” she called softly, but there was no response from her pigbat companion.

As her voice echoed through the empty hotel room, she realized, in horror, that her voice was startlingly different. Clear, smoother, and most certainly male, as far as she could tell.

She certainly was not Aesling any more.

—

**BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.**

_I don’t remember setting an alarm…_

Markus attempted to start his day as he did every morning - by rolling off the bed and directly onto the floor. It half-worked. He had apparently fallen asleep under blankets for once and proceeded to get tangled up in them, hitting the ground with a muffled _thud_.

“Are you alright?” asked a nearby, somewhat familiar voice, which understandably confused him as he lived happily by himself. His first thought of was Inien, who had a key to his hotel room (and even if she didn’t, she could find a way in, he was sure). The voice was going on in a distinctly not-Inien way, but maybe all that coffee she drank finally got to her. He was _supposed_ to call her back last night, but after the fight…

Huh. He didn’t remember _anything_ after the fight. Or much of the fight itself, besides a lot of frustration and muted amusement when Ashe finally showed some strength to back up her anger.

The other person kept talking. “I was afraid to jump in until things were settled, with all the energy you were throwing around, but maybe I should’ve…” The voice itself finally registered in his mind, clearly different than Inien’s - it was softer, and kinder, which did nothing to calm his sudden surprise. Markus narrowed his eyes and looked… up? He couldn’t tell. The room was kind of sideways.

A small pig hung in the air, floating gently with its bat-like wings.

“Well, what’re you doing here?” he grinned at her. “Did she send - wait, why does my voice sound weird?”

“What do you mean, Ashe?” The pigbat - he didn’t remember her name, in all honesty - watched him in confusion. “Are you sick? Still not feeling well after last night?”

“Am I - oh, of course this would happen.” It came rushing back to him, flashing imagery of the two of them fighting for control with their weapons linked. He began to untangle himself from the mass of blankets. “Stupid magic.”

Carefully, Markus stood up, shaking slightly as he attempted to accommodate for the change in his center of gravity. The pigbat floated closer, reaching one hoof out in confusion. “Are you sure you’re alright? Miss Kyl’il had to help me get you home, we weren’t sure what you two did to each other in the fight, but you weren’t reacting at all.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted as his mind began racing with a million different thoughts at once. “Just… feeling a little _off_ this morning.”

—

Ashe stared into the mirror. “Dammit Markus,” she hissed as she stared at her reflection. “ _What did you do this time?_ ”

Sure enough, she was taller than, well, herself, by maybe three or four inches. She appeared to have fallen asleep in her clothing, a green jacket over a red shirt and jeans. Blonde hair hung in a ponytail down her back, and some loose strands fell in front of her ears. Bright blue eyes, half-hidden by glasses she’d taken off the nightstand, studied her in the mirror. She reached up to adjust them instinctively, hand wrapped in a fingerless black glove.

Finally, a red-and-purple scarf hung around her neck, bizarrely comfortable in the already warm room. “God, he’s such a fucking hipster.”

In her other hand, she held a small mug of coffee and sipped it absentmindedly. She hadn’t liked coffee much before, nor had she ever tried to make a cup, but even with her lack of balance and general confusion, it was the first thing she did that morning. The sharpness of it gave her a good distraction from her current overwhelming circumstances.

It was strange, but alright.

—

Markus scowled at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Fate sure has a strange sense of humor,” he grumbled to himself. The face looking back at him was strangely familiar - he remembered seeing it stare up at him with a mixture of confusion and fear from that one school’s gym floor as he faced the water serpent. “I saved _Ashe_ , of all people.”

The pigbat, who had been absent for the last few minutes, appeared suddenly before him and he stumbled backwards, nearly slamming his head into the tiled wall. “You’re going to explain what’s up with you, right now. And do it fast, you’re already running late to get ready for class.” Her scolding look was somewhat undermined by her generally cuddly appearance.

“Class…?” he blinked. _That’s right, she’s just a teenager. Like hell I’m going to back to school._

“Actually, you’re right,” he admitted, thinking fast on his feet. “I don’t feel very well today. I should just stay in, maybe take a walk around town and get some fresh air.” He smiled reassuringly, trying to fit with how he pictured the _little miss hero_. “Maybe scout for some spirits.”

“What, really?” She looked confused. “Well, if you’re sure, I guess. You haven’t missed that much school before, right? I’m sure it’ll be fine, especially since that other Thief seemed a lot more banged up than you. You shouldn’t have too much trouble, even if we do find anything.”

“Great.” He slid towards the door, and was promptly cut off as the pigbat dove back in front of him.

“Woah, woah, woah. First off, you’re getting changed. You can’t wander around town in your PJs, duh! Plus, you’re forgetting this.” She fluttered over and dropped a small - charm? hairpin? brooch? _thing_ \- into his open palm.

He recognized it, surprisingly. Gold frame, purple center, shaped like a three-pointed leaf. It was usually on Aesling’s sash. Was this her transformation trinket? That did bring up a rather good question.

“Oh, um, uh,” Markus fumbled for the pigbat’s name for a moment, then completely gave up and continued without it. “I know this sounds stupid, and you’re probably gonna laugh,” he gave a small, awkward, chuckle of his own, “But my head is kinda foggy and I can’t remember… Sorry, this is silly, but, um, what’s my transformation phrase, again? Just in case I need it before my head clears.”

“Wow, you _must_ be sick.” She fluttered forward and held one hoof to his head as though she was taking his temperature. “Hm. Alright. No fever for now, but I’m keeping an eye on you. It’s ‘Pretty Magical Spirit Thief Aesling’. Got it?” She considered for a moment. “Maybe you should stay in bed, though. You’re already exhausted from last night, and if you can’t even remember how to transform, you definitely shouldn’t be exerting yourself more.”

He repeated the words under his breath, casually ignoring her speech, and nodded to himself. She smiled, taking it differently. “So you’re gonna stay in bed? I found a great movie while using your computer, I think you’ll enjoy it! It’s about a spider!”

Markus glanced up in surprise. When had it been decided he’d be staying here? Well, the pigbat wouldn’t be happy. But he still smiled in a play at accommodation (and a little in amusement at the mental image of a pigbat using a laptop). “Of course.”

—

The first thing Ashe did was change.

She did it as quickly as she could, as the entire experience felt strange. Ashe was torn between changing into a similar outfit and trying to fit her own style, but in the end just threw something together from Markus’s closet. She checked the thermostat twice, sure that it was freezing in the room, but surprisingly it wasn’t - Markus was just very attuned to the heat, it seemed.

She caught the briefest glance of her back in the mirror as she took off her shirt, knocking her glasses clear off of her face and causing the entire world to blur. She reached down for them and laughed as she noticed the tiny white rhinestones engraved in the side of each frame.

When the world finally came back into focus, she turned as best she could to catch sight of her back again, twisting her head somewhat painfully to look over the design.

Thin, jagged bat-like wings spread out along her back, emerging from her shoulder blades and crafted carefully of dark red ink. The shade reminded her of blood spreading from a recent wound.

Her pocket buzzed, tearing her out of her strange fascination.

Somewhat confused, as she hadn’t remembered putting anything _in_ her pocket, Ashe reached one hand in.

Out came a smartphone - it buzzed several times more, and she slid one finger across it in an attempt to unlock it, only to be thwarted when the lock screen came up and demanded a password.

Of course. She had no clue what possible combination it could be and turned the phone back off with a frustrated look. A phone password could be anything from a pin number to a birthday. _I don’t even know Markus’s birthday. Though it’s not exactly like I could’ve stopped to ask him._

She eyed the laptop in the corner of the room before sliding into the desk chair and waving the wireless mouse sitting beside it in an attempt to wake the computer up. It was plugged in, clearly, and on, as the keys were backlit, but the screen didn’t change. Ashe looked around in confusion before noticing a small device off on the left side of the keyboard. She recognized it, having seen it on Eileen’s laptop before. _It’s a fingerprint scanner._

She rested her thumb on the scanner for a moment, and the computer beeped. The monitor changed from blackness to the desktop.

The wallpaper was simple, but strange. A photo of a blue sky, filled with clouds. In the lower right corner, it was captioned: “ _you bet your sweet ass this is helvetica_ ”. Again, she was struck by the thought that Markus was a complete hipster.

She took a breath, then looked uncertainly at the icons dotted around the screen. _This feels… very creepy. Especially considering all the possible things I could find._

To her surprise, there was a file just sitting there on the desktop, titled “ _passwords.txt_ ”. “Really, Markus?” she spoke to the empty room, flinching slightly at the voice that echoed back at her.

It was a strange list, to be sure, and not one composed solely of passwords. At the top was a contact list, filled with names, phone numbers, emails, and addresses she didn’t recognize. Two people - sharing a last name - had the note “ _(do not contact._ ever. _)_ ” _Why include them on the list, then…?_

Another, missing both an address and last name, sat at the bottom of the list. “ _Inien - call for emergencies!!_ ”

“Huh.” Was it someone important? A sibling, or a partner, maybe? Continuing down the document, Ashe blinked in confusion. The next section contained long strings of numbers, nine digits or so, followed by what appeared to be a monetary balance. A couple were upwards of five or six figures.

Finally, at the very bottom of the page, were actual passwords. Most of them were for websites, which she scrolled past without glancing at, and emails. The two last listed caught her eye.

“ _Phone: 6695_

_Transfo sentence: Handsome Devil Magical Thief Horatio (glasses)_ ”

_Horatio._ Distantly, Ashe remembered Markus mentioning that name upon their first meeting, but had thought nothing of it. She tapped the side of Markus’s rhinestone-studded glasses. “Good to know.” She looked back to his phone and turned it on, typing in the same code as the one on the screen. “Six, six, nine, five.”

The buzzing had been, apparently, the arrival of a series of text messages. There were no other contacts listed, and this particular number didn’t have a name associated with it, nor had it apparently ever contacted this phone before. Flicking back to the home screen, she realized that it was completely new. The only apps on it were the default, as was the wallpaper.

The message was short and explicit.

“ _Meet me at the Silver Spoon, 4 pm._  
Do not be late.  
Again.”

A quick glance of the clock confirmed that it was only 2 o’clock (wow, she’d slept in), giving her a while still before she had to leave for this mysterious meeting.

Ashe moved to inspect a few of the other computer files, curiosity getting the better of her. There were lots of folders, all under rather ambiguous names. Her mouse hovered over “business proposals”. Rather than actual proposals, though, it was filled with gifs. Some captioned, some not, and a surprisingly large chunk of them were cats. Ashe spent a couple minutes laughing at the sheer absurdity contained in the folder, and then moved on to the next.

She opened the “news” folder. Inside were bookmarks from various news sources - a few were links to general sites, but a large portion were set aside as specific articles. She clicked the first one on the list.

It began: “ _This friday, Brian Velafi, CEO of the renowned Velafi Industries and his wife, Alexandra, will be hosting their eighth annual banquet dedicated to the education and prevention of cancer._ ”

She skimmed the rest of the page. That was all it was about, a local banquet. She opened the next one, which turned out to be about the massive layoffs at the aforementioned company. The one after that was about another dinner they were hosting. She paused for a moment. The Velafis were the ones from his contact list, who he was never supposed to contact - what was the fascination, then? Why was he keeping track of them?

She frowned as she continued, looking for any telling details now. Halfway through the third article she noticed that there was a picture of the Velafis, standing together in a garden of some kind. She only looked at them briefly, but after giving it a second glance, it became quite obvious - the resemblance between them and the face she’d been studying in the mirror only minutes before.

She closed the articles. There were several other files left, but something else had caught her attention when her hand idly brushed against it - on Markus’ belt, of all places, hung a flash drive.

_What’s so important that Markus has to have it on him at all times…?_

—

The pigbat lay sideways on a haphazard pile of shirts and skirts he’d thrown together in the back of Ashe’s closet. And people said he wasn’t a nice guy!  Disarming the poor creature had been a bizarrely easy feat, once he’d found something to use, and a couple pairs of tights had more than done the trick. One tied around her tiny hooves, another wrapped around her little wings, and a sock stuffed in her mouth to stop her confused blabbering. “Sorry about this.” His smile indicated otherwise.

“I hate to leave you _hog_ tied,” he snickered as she glared, “but I can’t let you interrupt things now that you caught on. Well, maybe you didn’t quite, but I can’t have you meddling either. I’ve gotta go find Ashe. Er, Markus.” He gave a small growl of annoyance at how weird this all was and almost jumped when it came out actually intimidating in Ashe’s voice. He hurried on, hoping the pigbat hadn’t noticed him flinching at the sound he made. “The other Spirit Thief that’s _not me._ ”

He paused for a minute as he considered the fact that he was still in pajamas.

“…Wait, what the _hell_ am I going to wear?”

—

There were two folders on the flash drive, and both of them were very suspicious. Each were a gig or so large, and had the same unassuming titles as those on the desktop. One was “cat gifs”, and the other was another folder named “business proposals”. Somewhat confused, as the file she had first clicked named “business proposals” _contained_ cat gifs, Ashe opened the first folder.

There were files. Not gifs, though, that was for sure. Instead, there were a plethora of videos and images, each accompanied by a matching .txt. Both worried and intrigued, she opened the first video.

It was strange, to say the least. Two boys (though they were her age, at least) in expensive clothing, making out in a bathroom. The video was only about fifteen seconds long, and that was all that happened.

“O…kay.” She opened the next file, which appeared to just be the photograph of a receipt, although the only item on it was a pregnancy test. Growing slightly more bewildered, she clicked on the .txt file next to it.

It was a letter, and started by addressing someone by name. She read through it, the eloquently written lines of text detailing the fact that “ _your parents don’t even know you have a boyfriend. What would they make of_ this?” Fingernails dug into her palm as she finally got to the bottom - of course, it wasn’t signed.

_It’s fucking blackmail! He keeps fucking blackmail on these people!_ Ashe angrily closed the file and took the drive out of the laptop, giving it a furious glare. Briefly, the idea occurred to her that she might even end up on the drive, especially presuming the fact that Markus was now in her body and could probably do whatever the fuck he wanted (she shuddered at the thought), but, somehow, she did not care as much as she felt she probably should’ve.

Ashe considered stuffing it in the microwave, but quickly realized what a pain that could end up being to the staff of the hotel, and instead took what quickly presented itself as the second easiest option.

She went over to the door, put on one of Markus’s boots, and proceeded to _stomp the shit_ out of the tiny drive. She then slid into the kitchen, grabbed a ziplock bag, and scooped the broken metal pieces into it, finally putting the bagged remains into one of her pant pockets. _I know exactly where to put this that Markus’ll never find it. That’ll teach him._

—

Looking at her _face_ in the mirror was one thing, but when Markus actually saw himself in Ashe’s full-body mirror he immediately turned bright red and turned away. “She sleeps in a tank top and shorts. Not a thing I needed to know.” Until now, he’d been deliberately not looking down, but he had to figure out what he was working with.

Disgruntled noises continued to come from the closet, which he blatantly ignored.

“Well, I need to find _something_ to wear.” He skimmed through a couple dresser drawers as quickly as he could, grabbing the first pieces of casual clothing that looked good and putting them together on the bed. A long-sleeved green t-shirt, a black vest, and a pair of jeans. As comfortable as a skirt was, he was not even remotely inclined to put on one of the school’s uniforms. They were tacky, at the very least, and easily recognizable for anyone looking for kids playing hooky.

While digging through her clothing, he slowly began to notice a growing ache in his chest, one that was sore, yet… _empty_. Looking down, he could see the slightest bit of Ashe’s shadow burn peeking out from beneath her shirt, still an ugly black stain where he’d gripped it the night before, though the magic flowing through her veins had cleared it up some since. Seemed odd that the pain would be in the chest more than abdomen, but then again, he’d never experienced one of those attacks himself, and he was glad of it.

Now that he was no longer in the heat of the moment, Markus did regret being so… _rash_ during their confrontation. It had been unwarranted and, at present, rather painful, both physically and mentally. He eyed the t-shirt he’d picked, glad its full length would more than cover the wound.

As he changed, he pointedly faced away from the mirror. Not that he was embarrassed or anything, that would be absurd. No, he was just being courteous.

He slipped the trinket the pigbat had given him into one of the vest’s pockets, then began the assault on Ashe’s wild mess of hair. Or, tried to, at least.

Eventually, Markus gave up on taming it with a brush. It just seemed to get even poofier the longer he went at it. He sighed and poked his head out of Ashe’s bedroom door. “Anybody got a straightener I can borrow?” Even if her hair was short, it should help somewhat.

Somewhere down the hall a voice shouted, “Oh my gosh, Kelly, you’re _finally_ going to use one!?” and within a few seconds three girls in various stage of dress were heading towards him with straighteners. Markus thanked the universe that they were all wearing at least decently covering pajamas. He wouldn’t know how to explain it if ‘Kelly’ suddenly started blushing at other girls …unless she was into that? He never _had_ found out, though it certainly was an interesting thought.

—

The cafe was almost empty, and Ashe sat in a dimly lit corner, sipping a random drink she’d ordered upon entering the place with no idea what anything was. For lack of something better to do while she waited (having arrived a good 15 minutes early), she skimmed the local news on Markus’s phone, scrolling past reports of break-ins, strange theatre performances, and tales of the “Editor Thief” and “Time Turner” with an annoyed scowl.

Someone pulled out the chair across from Ashe and dropped into it. When she looked up, it was a girl (woman?) around Markus’s age glaring at her. “You didn’t call me after you went out last night.”

She wore something like a thin black jacket over a white tank top, the back of which extended down her legs. Peculiar light brown eyes watched Ashe, long dark hair curving around her face and extending along her back.

As soon as she saw the woman Ashe felt a sort of physical pull to her, some kind of attraction that she couldn’t quite place. _So this must be Markus’s girlfriend, right?_ She hadn’t even considered he might have one before today. She didn’t know who she was expecting, but it was definitely not someone like this.

She fumbled for words after realizing that the woman was waiting for a response. “I - I wasn’t feeling very well. I kinda went home and crashed. Sorry…”

The woman crossed her arms and the glare strengthened. “So you could have potentially been ill or infected and instead of calling me so I could make sure there wasn’t a problem you went back to your hotel room hoping to sleep it off.”

Infected? The two of them got their fair share of injuries while fighting. _Did she see a scrape or something?_ Where would - _oh_. There _had_ been a cut on her - _his_ leg she noticed while first changing. Maybe that was it, and would definitely be something a girlfriend might notice.

“Why cause such worry?” she shrugged, feeling ever more Markus-y as she did so. “It clearly worked. I felt fine this morning.”

The corner of the woman’s mouth turned down and her lips pressed into a thin line as she scowled at Ashe, saying nothing.

Ashe gave an internal sigh, somewhat surprised Markus would have this sort of girlfriend, as she clearly was of the demanding sort. She’d have guessed he would be the high-maintenance one in anything. Either way, she would have to take a different approach.

Reaching across the table she took one of the woman’s hands from off her arm and gently pulled it forward, holding it over the middle of the table in her own in the most gentlemanly way she could think of. She managed the most sincere expression and voice she could and looked straight into the girl’s eyes.

_Never expected to use boys-and-girls etiquette lessons for a situation like this._

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to call next time.”

The girl’s eyes went wide and for a moment she froze. Then she was snatching her hand back to return it to her crossed arm and looking away with a blush that Ashe could tell she was trying to suppress. “Well, at least you learned your lesson.”

Now the girl’s behavior made more sense to Ashe.

From the front, one of the baristas yelled out “ _Inien!_ ” and the girl stood up and headed over to pick up her order. So _this_ was Inien; the lone name she remembered from the contact list.

Inien returned a moment later, carrying two cups - one for herself, that she placed before her chair on the table, and one for Ashe, having apparently taken note of the first finished cup sitting beside her. Ashe picked up the new drink, giving a slight nod of thanks before taking a sip of her own coffee, and noting that it was much, much better than the stuff she’d made this morning and whatever it was she’d first ordered upon entering the shop.

It was strange to think that suddenly she liked - loved, even - coffee, having never really enjoyed it at all before now, but even stranger was the way she felt when she looked at Inien. _Comes with the territory,_ she supposed.

And as she looked into the woman’s eyes, however briefly, an odd burnt color looked back at her with amusement. A feeling ran through her - something within her that resounded strangely to that smile. Fierce energy waiting to be loosed, wanting permission from those golden eyes to cause some trouble. Ashe took a deep breath, trying to shake the feeling.

They sat in silence for a while just drinking until Ashe finished hers off and decided it’d be best to leave before Inien started asking questions that she couldn’t answer or caught on that something was wrong. She stood up and slid on her coat, offering a small “Heading out!” and turning to leave, before being suddenly interrupted by the other woman’s voice, slightly annoyed again.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh, right.” Ashe spun back around and gave her a small but warm smile before leaning in to peck Inien on the cheek, pulling back part way so she could see her face enough to give her one more affectionate grin (the girl was kinda cute, and it was hard to ignore the pull Markus felt towards her), only to see that she was blushing brightly and was somewhat stunned. Scratch that earlier comment, she was _very_ cute.

Ashe gave Inien her most Markus-esque wink and with a quick “Bye!”, she turned and scooped up her things, heading out before the other girl could respond.

—

Waiting for Aesling made his day slow, long, and boring. Markus was very hungry, first off, but hadn’t had the insight to check Ashe’s room for _money_ before he tied up the pigbat, got changed, and left, nor had he any idea of what to do to _find_ Ashe in the first place.

_I doubt she’s in my hotel room, at least anymore. Might’ve gone to find the spirit - what was her name, Kiylel? Something like that - to fix this whole mess. I should ask more, if I can catch the boss in a decent mood. She could’ve gone to the police, gone to her school looking for me… She’s gonna come to the museum tonight, though. If I was her - and I am, technically - that’s where I’d go._

So, he browsed the museum. He’d popped in, once, to scope it out before he’d first encountered Ashe, but had only been paying attention in order to rob it. He took his time, studying each of the paintings and tapestries, sketches and statues, and even what little was visible of the weapons exhibit still being set up. The area outside the closed-off gallery where they’d fought last night. Bustling crowds oohing and aahing over crime scenes, and the annoyed museum curator trying to shoo reporters “ _out of my goddamn museum before I call the fucking cops!_ ”

Somehow he managed to occupy the few hours before the museum closed… He also may or may not have napped outside on a bench for a bit once it did. Being Ashe was _tiring_ , somehow. Weren’t teens supposed to be full of energy? He remembered it like that, at least, but he certainly didn’t miss those times.

Markus woke up past dark, the moon beginning to peek into the sky and stars slowly flickering into view. He had no phone or watch, and therefore no idea what time it was (or even _where_ he was, for a moment). Swinging himself off of the bench and onto his feet, he remembered with a sharp jolt what he was doing. “Right. Body swap thing. Of course.”

He strolled up to the doors of the museum, one now patched with wooden planks and tarp where it’d been broken the night before. He realized as he went to put one hand on the door’s handle that he had no real way of getting _in_. Usually he just teleported into the building, and by the time he arrived, Ashe would have already disabled a good chunk of the security.

Except now _he_ was Ashe.

He retrieved the pin that the pigbat had given him earlier from his vest pocket and grasped it tightly in his fist, hoping that is was, in fact, the key to Ashe’s transformation. Somewhat unsure of what to do, he tried to pour energy through his hand and into it, like when he formed a shadow bolt in his Thief form, and brought to mind the words he’d found out earlier.

“ _Pretty Magical Spirit Thief Aesling!_ ”

There was a sudden _burst_ and he… he just felt wonderful. His whole body was alight with energy that felt nothing like his own transformation. Instead of the heavy rush of strength and power it was - health. He felt healthier than he ever had in his life, and like every cell was crackling with something that was a mixture of sunlight and tree leaves and the warm lap of the ocean and static dancing over skin right before a huge shock. It was glowing and pushing against his soul, too. _Magnificent_.

It took a couple minutes for the sheer feeling of the magical high to finally wear off. Markus shook his head to clear the fog, leaning hard against the museum doors to steady himself.

“Hahaha.” He giggled to himself. “That… wow. That sure was something. 9/10, would existential crisis again. No wonder she keeps doing this even though she loses a lot.”

He cleared his throat, pushing slightly against the door to regain his balance. “Alright, let’s hope she _does_ show up, but I can’t see why she wouldn’t.” Summoning Ashe’s weapon, that much at least familiar, he looked down at the bare hilt. “I’m sure I can handle this.”

—

When Ashe finally arrived at the museum, it was just part dark. She’d gotten no message from Markus’s mysterious boss to show up, but if anything, she’d bet that he would be here. Because if he _wanted_ to fix this whole thing, which she hoped he did, then he would be here tonight.

First, though, she sneaked around to the back of the building and dumped out the contents of her ziplock bag into the well there. She grinned a little at the sight of all the broken locks sitting in the bottom as the pieces of Markus’s drive settled down around them.

As she approached the front doors, she was surprised to find that one was left open. Slightly confused, she slid into the darkened museum. She looked up to where the cameras were, and realized that they had been sliced clean through by… _something_.

Faintly, from further within the museum, she could hear footsteps. _Oh, right. The only person who could’ve done that is me. Markus. Markus-who-is-currently-me._ Which meant that he had transformed. And also might mean -

No time to think; there could be a dark spirit to worry about and there was no way Ashe was going to let Markus collect it for his boss using her body. She rested two fingers on the frame of his glasses and yelled the phrase she’d found: “ _Handsome Devil Magical Thief Horatio!_ ”

The transformation began at once.

She could feel her spine shifting, lengthening, pushing out past the limits of her body and muscle and skin growing to cover it. Could feel horns forcing their way through the skin of her forehead. It should have been painful beyond all reason, but she could barely make it out with the rush of energy moving through her. It was amazing, delicious, fantastic… some part near the back of her mind was screaming that it was awful, it felt like pure _wrongness_ and all the worst parts of humanity, selfish rage and terrifying urges, but those screams were drowned out by the laughter echoing through her head, filling every inch.

She distantly noticed the fangs growing in, almost wondering if she’d bitten her tongue as she couldn’t tell if what was filling her mouth was blood or tears or laughter. Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, digging her clawed fingers into long, blonde hair, not even knowing why she was doing it. She wanted to unleash this power on everything around her, share the joy because it was _wonderful_ , no, make them _suffer_ because they _deserved_ it. Unleash it. Do both.

She leaned forward, feeling like she wanted to vomit. She wanted to expel this awfulness from her body. She wanted to revel in it.

“ - she!! Ashe!! Aesling, _don’t_ \- !” Why were they yelling for her? She should blast them, to thank them for knowing her name… Her face felt wet. Why did it feel wet? She was still staring at her knees, she thought, but her eyes weren’t seeing anything and the power and the laughing and that growling were rushing and echoing in her ears and her head -

Suddenly there were hands on the sides of her face, tilting it up… skin to skin contact. This felt nice. She should get more of it. She should make them bleed for touching her…

Something lanced into her head from the hands and she was screaming. She knew right away this time what she was doing, unlike the laughter, because it was burning away the haze, making her completely aware of her body and of how much the crackling _hurt_. It felt like it was clearing out everything in her skull, that dark, strong feeling, leaving her mind feeling clear… her sight was coming back and the face looking down at her was her face… She could hardly focus with the energy’s pain, but it felt wonderful, pushing away the poison haze.

Clawed hands unwound from long hair and acted separate from the orders of her mind. This body _wanted_ the energy, and used its superior arm-length to reach up and put _her_ hands on _their_ head - no it was _her_ head in front of her - this body didn’t care, tried to blast the wonderful, painful darkness right into her savior’s head, _her_ head -

—

They lay on the floor, side-by-side, minds each swimming like fish in an aquarium. Ashe reached one hand up to her forehead, vision blurring slightly as her eyes blinked open and she attempted to keep her calm after the sheer amount of mental and emotional trauma she had just experienced, the shock of all the demanding energy suddenly gone from her awareness.

Something moved suddenly before her and she resisted the urge to flinch away from it - as her sight cleared, it registered that it was Markus, wiping the tears she had shed from his eyes and one hand held out to her.

Leaning on an unsteady arm, she took it, and noticed that he, too, was trembling. A brief tug and the thief pulled her to her feet, clawed fingers resting delicately on her shoulder to keep her steady.

He smiled, a slight but true smile, and immediately removed his hands in what she supposed was an attempt at goodwill. “Everything ends up fine in the end,” he acknowledged. “Let’s not mess with this any more tonight, just in case.”

Ashe sighed deeply, her breath shaking slightly as it left her body. “Everything ended up fine,” she agreed. Markus gave an affirmative nod, and took a couple steps back, moving to jump halfway up the museum wall and teleporting the last few inches up to a window’s ledge. He pushed against the window’s frame, and it swung open. He turned to leap away, but Ashe spoke up before he could. “And… Markus?”

He looked back at her to find her biting her lip, doing her best to keep eye contact despite an obvious desire to break it. The words didn’t want to leave her throat, anger wanting to roil up even in her tiredness, but she forced them out. “I’m still not forgiving you for what you did to the detective, but…. thanks. You saved me, whether you meant to or not.”

Markus was caught off guard for a moment, honestly unsure how to respond to her gratitude. He shot her a small, fanged smile and did his best to play it off. “We’ll make that _two_ times now I’ve done that. Any more and I’ll have to start calling it a habit.”

Before any more meaningful conversation could occur he turned to face forward and leapt from the windowsill, then vanished into thin air in a puff of black smoke.


	12. Into the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus and Ashe’s choices catch up with them, and Markus thinks back on his past.

Her head pounded and her shoulder ached. Something poked her hard in the back, rousing her just enough for her to slowly open her eyes.

The museum’s bland ceiling was the first thing she registered, and Ashe had to resist groaning in irritation as she saw it.

Had she been knocked out again? All she remembered was fighting with Markus, a large jade tiger, and then there had been a puff of smoke and a sudden pain…

She tried to turn over, wincing when she put weight on her shoulder. Three long gashes reminiscent of claw marks ran down it, blood trickling from each and onto her armlets

It was only then that Ashe realized that she was still Aesling, somehow having missed the white hair drifting in front of her face and the gloved hands she used to support herself.

_Click_.

The museum was empty, so quiet at this time of night that a pin drop could be heard. That lone noise echoed like a gunshot, and Ashe looked up.

It took her a moment to focus, splotchy shades of blue and grey and gold slowly shifting into coherent shapes.

She came face-to-face with Detective Hartway, his gun trained uncertainly on her. The hand holding it rested on top of the other, flashlight in his grip.

The flashlight was off, and it was obvious why - she sat beneath a window, resting in a moonbeam like it was a spotlight. Cautiously, she raised both hands into the air, and carefully got up from the ground.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. He glanced to the side, and Ashe caught view of the tiger statue, warped by the Devil Thief’s victory. Shattered remains of some other display lay scattered across the floor. “I’m guessing you didn’t do any of that.”

She resisted the urge to bite back with the same question, instead taking the moment to gather her thoughts. Her sword lay on the ground a few away, too far to grab at a moment’s notice. Something jabbed at her in the back once more, and she guessed that it must be Dont, hiding from the detective, however unlikely it was that he could even see her.

“We were fighting. Me and the other thief. I think he knocked me out, and I woke up on the floor.” She tried to keep her voice steady, and almost immediately regretted not changing something in her tone. He knew Kelly, surely he would recognize -

“Are you alright?” He gestured to her wound, but did not lower his gun, and she honestly couldn’t blame him. On the other hand, she put her arms back down.

“It stings, but I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure.”

An uneasy silence hung in the air as the two considered each other. Ashe narrowed her eyes as her own words caught up to her. _He knocks me out, claws my shoulder and leaves me on the floor to rot._ She huffed out a small laugh, quiet enough for Hartway not to hear. _No, that’s not even the fucking beginning of it, is it? He threatens me the first time we meet, slashes me up, forges a false alliance just so he can stab me in the back, steals my weapon, crashes the musical, hurts my friend, and all with no remorse! I don’t even know why I thought there was even the sliver of a chance that he had even one good bone in his God-forsaken body. But he’s a fucking devil, I don’t even know why I thought any different!_

Dont jabbed her hard in the back again, knocking her out of her stupor. “So? Aren’t you going to arrest me?” She probably should’ve tried to keep her voice more level, but reining in her anger was difficult to say the least.

Hartway looked sideways, glancing pointedly at the destroyed cameras. “Can I ask a question, first?”

She nodded.

“ _Why?_ Are - are you trying to beat him? Or stop him? The replicas, the break-ins, going through all this trouble for… I don’t understand what the point is.”

Ashe thought for a moment.

“Have you ever,” she began, slowly, “done something bad for a good reason? That if it harms others - or even those close to you - it’s still better for everyone in the long run?“

He waited as she paused. Dont stopped pressing into her back, almost as if the question startled her, too. Ashe turned her head to look out the window, studying the brilliance of the moon. Hartway followed her gaze.

She continued softly, "Sometimes the hardest choices aren’t the ones you have to make. They’re all the ones that happen after.”

The moon _was_ brilliant tonight, close to if not completely full. He went to glance at her, gun lowering slightly as he did so -

The golden hilt was gone from the floor, as was the thief herself. Hartway was left alone in the empty museum, and were it not for the jade tiger and shattered clay pieces, it would be as though she had never been there to begin with.

—-

Bright lights and a pounding near the front of his head woke Markus up from his death-like slumber. He blinked once, eyelids grating like sandpaper. Markus groaned, rubbing at his eyes until they started to water and looking at light seemed more bearable. He brought a hand up to his head, as if it could calm the drum banging away in there.

Once he felt like the initial pains were over, he opened his eyes fully.

He laid sprawled on a bed, still dressed from what felt like a crazy party last night, his button-down rumpled with most of the buttons popped, pants shifted uncomfortably too far to one side, and only one shoe on his foot. Kicking his legs, he sat up - and immediately buried his head back in the mattress.

_Nope… too fast. Fucking hangovers._

He groaned into the floral printed, glitter-coated covers, cursing both whoever created hangovers and whoever decided he’d be a lightweight. He waited a couple minutes for the pounding to slow, and when he felt he could sit up fully and not vomit, he did so, but much slower this time.

It took him longer than normal to straighten himself out, fingers feeling thick and clumsy. Eventually he got a respectable amount of buttons done and found his shoe. He looked to the other bed occupied by three or five people, all left in varied states of dress.

_Must’ve been some party… too bad I can’t remember it._

A couple papers on the desk not covered by empty wine bottles or doused in glitter caught his eye. He stood up, joints popping and body creaking. He stepped around the larger piles of glitter, plates of half-eaten food, beer cans and wine bottles, and clothes. He pushed aside even more glitter (he was really starting to regret not remembering the party, it certainly seemed like his type) and leafed through the papers. Most were about paying for the room, how to request an early wake-up call, and other hotel-like stuff. The one thing that caught his eyes were the words “complimentary breakfast, free of charge”. Glancing back to see the rest of the partygoers still asleep, he quickly fixed his hair in the reflection of the TV and headed out to the lobby, nearly forgetting the key to the room before he shut the door.

He took his time eating and drinking coffee that was only improved by the copious amounts of cream and sugar he mixed in. When he came back, a styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand, he wasn’t surprised to see that the hotel room was empty. All the clothes had been taken, thankfully, and they’d at least had the decency to try to clean up the room, throwing some food and cans out and piling the rest around the garbage when the bag filled up.

Markus shrugged. _Looks clean enough to not be too much trouble for house keeping._ He glanced at the carpet, and the glitter stuck in it. _Well, mostly._ He hopped onto the bed he’d woken up on and turned on the TV, flipping lazily through channels before he got to the cartoons.

Time ticked on, and before he knew it, he had only a couple minutes left until he was forced to check out. He grabbed his wallet, the only thing he’d brought to the party, then headed down to the front desk.

An older man was sitting there, fiddling with something behind the counter. Markus already had his credit card out before he was standing in front of the desk. “Checking out. I’m under…” Markus looked to the ceiling, trying to remember what name he’d decided on this time. “Matt Jackson, I think.”

The old man nodded and started slowly typing, one letter at a time. Markus bit back a sigh, leaning against the fake wooden counter.

“Ah, here it is,” the receptionist said. He pointed to the credit card reader. “Swipe your card.” As soon as he did so, a red ‘X’ popped up on the touch screen.

“It says there’s nothing on that card, sonny,” the old man looked at him. “Do you have another one?”

Markus furrowed his brow before dropping the dead card on the floor and pulling out another one. He swiped that one and again, a red X popped up. “What the fuck?” Markus muttered to himself, digging out yet another one and swiping it hard. Another red X.

He groaned before pulling out his last one, a sleek black one that his father always told him was for ‘emergencies only’.

_Well, this certainly is one._ Markus swiped the black card, holding his breath. The machine paused, as if it understood how fucking tense the moment was and just wanted to cause Markus more anxiety. And this time, the machine had the audacity to add a little beep along with another red X.

The old man shook his head.

Markus stared at the credit card reader in disbelief. “Th - that can’t be right.” He swiped his card again, getting the same red X.

The old man sighed and actually sounded a bit sympathetic for Markus. “Sorry to break it to you, sonny, but that card is also drained.”

“But I paid the - wait, no, threw those out.”

“Do you have cash to pay, Mr. Jackson?” the old man asked. Markus dug through his wallet, frowning at what he found there - twenty dollars of cash (mostly ones), a couple sticks of gum, a book of coupons, an expired Starbucks giftcard, a condom, and one or two fake IDs hiding in the back.

Markus looked up to the old man. “How about instead, I tell you what I told my last ex when they _politely_ informed me they wanted my head on a pike.” Markus paused before saying, with a flourish, “You’ll have to catch me first.”

He sprinted, jumping over a couch before making it out the door and around the street corner, blocking out the yells and protests from the old man. He made it only a couple of blocks before he stopped, bending over with his hands on his knees, panting heavily. After spending a couple minutes regaining his composure, he straightened himself up and found his way to  the closest ATM. He punched in his PIN and tried to withdraw whatever he could.

A louder than necessary _beep_ alerted him that nearly all of his savings had already been withdrawn and he was left with a little over a hundred dollars. He groaned angrily and pulled out his phone, going into his contacts and scrolling to “Dad”. His finger hovered just above the ‘Call” button when he paused.

_What good would it even do anyway? What could I possibly say that he hasn’t already thought of a counterargument for? Why would he care about his deadbeat teenage son he’s just thrown to the wolves?_

Silently closing his eyes for a moment, he turned off his phone and withdrew what he could. He pulled out his wallet and put the money inside. Before he put his wallet away, he popped one of the sticks of gum in his mouth.

Then he stuck his hands in his pockets and started walking, trying to seem nonchalant as he thought he heard police sirens from the direction of the hotel.

—–

Markus laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed and then, when he finally ran out of breath, he glanced up at Inien and her expression sent him spiraling into another fit.

Even when she firmly insisted that, from her perspective, _he_ was the one who had kissed her, he still could not bring himself to wipe the smug smirk from his face.

“And you yell at _me_ for ‘fraternizing’ with the enemy.” He snickered. She glared, and he coughed. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop.”

“I’m more disappointed that you didn’t contact me as soon as it happened.”

“I would’ve, miss changes-phones-once-a-month, but I didn’t know your number. I had it saved on my laptop but I didn’t exactly have access to that, did I?”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you learn anything about her, at the very least?”

“She goes to a local private high school.” Markus thought for a moment more. “That’s about it. Unless there was something specific you want to know.”

“So that was a complete waste of time. At least she didn’t find out any of our plans…” Her glare slid into a grin. “And of all people, you’ve been losing spirits to a _high schooler?_ ”

“She’s like three years younger than me, shut up.” He leaned back into the plush armchair, plucking his glasses from his face to clean them. “Is this _all_ you wanted to talk about, Inien?”

“Museum. Tonight.” She tossed him a set of keys. Blinded by the lack of eyewear, they smacked him square in the face with a loud jangle. He blinked and picked them up from the floor with a curious look.

“What’re these for?”

“I’m sick of hearing you complain about getting around. A friend of a friend was selling their motorcycle, so I wrote it off as a business expense.”

He beamed. “Oooh.”

“Gas is up to you, and I’ll be taking a bit off your paycheck for a few weeks to help cover it, but I figured you’d see that as worth it. Maybe you’ll start getting there before her for once.”

At the mention of Aesling, he rolled his eyes, and held back a scathing retort about the conduction of a proper dramatic entrance. “Does it really matter? You said it yourself that we’re - ”

“Would you rather I take the bike back?” She cut him off with a knowing look.

“No.” He pouted.

“Oh, also…” She turned to look through her bookshelves, assorted tomes and notebooks on magic and mysticism and a million other things Markus had never understood nor cared about. Inien pulled a thin volume from the shelf, then flipped it open to the bookmark that had been left inside. “We’ve been over how to learn spells before. Memorize this one. If anything goes wrong, this will make sure our plan isn’t a total waste.”

He glanced at it briefly before sliding the book into his bag. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Inien looked pointedly at the clock that hung over the door. “Now, get moving. It’s almost sundown.”

He gave a curt nod before standing and heading for the door, a new grin already forming.

_Another night, another spirit._

And, Markus hoped, another victory.

—

Markus remembered browsing through the local classifieds, skimming for something, anything to get him enough money to carry him to the next week at the very least.

He was disastrously under qualified for most of them, and the few he felt he had a chance at seemed either sketchy or just downright illegal.

Despite his uncertainties, he picked a single ad. It was for a new security company looking for hires around college age. It required no degree, offered good pay, and wanted applicants with “an ambitious drive” and a “fighting spirit”. It offered only a phone number, so he made a call.

It should’ve been suspicious that they didn’t ask to see his resume, or even for a number to call back. A woman’s voice simply informed him to come to a certain address at 7 o'clock on Friday for an interview.

When Markus arrived, the building itself only a few blocks away from his crappy motel room, he found that it was actually just a warehouse. He knocked once on the door, uncertain if he was at the right place or not, before the same voice as he’d heard on the phone invited him in.

She dressed rather informally, a black shirt and pair of grey pants. Long, dark hair trailed down her back, and she looked him up and down with peculiarly bright amber eyes. “I suppose you’ll do.”

The room itself was rather barren. It appeared to have been sectioned off from the rest of the warehouse, with large, collapsible walls put in place. Dark, indistinguishable stains coated spots of the floor, and it was only then that Markus realized he might’ve gotten himself into something that even he couldn’t handle. _Still, I’m here, might as well roll with the punches._

The woman held out one hand. “Give me your glasses and go stand in the center of the room.”

He tentatively handed them over and went to stand where she said. He couldn’t make out what she was doing, though it seemed like she was inspecting them from the vague shapes he could register.

“Good enough,” she decided and took a few steps closer to him. “Alright, this interview is a simple one. I don’t care about _you_ , I just want to know if you’ll survive the process. Don’t disappoint me.”

_What is this, some kind of illegal drug?!_ Markus went to take a step back, alarm bells blaring in his head, but found that he could no longer move. The shadows in the already dimly-lit room seemed to grow longer, as though they were grabbing at him ravenously.

He looked back up to the woman. She held something in her hand - it almost reminded him of a flame, black and blue and purple twisting together, stray wisps trailing from it.

“By the way, my name is Inien.” Words blended into sound, into song, as she began to chant something under her breath. That it carried a haunting rhythm was all he could tell - if the words meant anything, they weren’t English.

As her tone grew fiercer, she grinned at him, normal white teeth turning into sharpened fangs moments before she lunged forward and placed the dark flame against his chest.

The last thing he saw were those same sharp teeth dancing in his vision.

—

It was hot and cold and burning, biting, scathing. It dug hard into his chest, into his heart. It filled every pore in his body, a dark void that replaced the illusion of substance with nonexistence.

It should’ve been painful; it should’ve been unbearable. And yet somehow it wasn’t, instead blossoming within him as an invigorating bittersweetness. As the darkness spread, he grew more acclimated to the taste. His first instinct was to fight, to resist, but his longing for that sweetness overcame instinct. Rather than fight, he drowned in it.

It burst through his skin, and he could distantly feel his body shift and change as it was overtaken. He spent no time caring, instead riding the blissful bittersweetness, letting it spill from his mouth in laughter.

Soon, perhaps _too_ soon, the initial high wore off. The comforting darkness lightened and unfurled around him. He opened his eyes, existence filled so suddenly with an incredible strength, an incredible _power_. He rose from the ground with as much of a flourish as he could manage and looked at the woman.

Inien’s initial disinterested look had turned to one of disbelief, a slow smirk spreading across her face. “Number nine is a success! You’re hired.” She laughed and took a step forward, strolling casually around him as she inspected his new appearance. “We start immediately.”

He grinned, his own newly-formed pointed canines matching hers.

It was the start of something beautiful.

—

The spirit was an active one, for once. Inien believed in education when it came to spirits, and Markus knew the difference; an active spirit was one that moved and fought of its own volition. A passive spirit simply acted defensively.

The difference between him and Ashe some days, he supposed.

The spirit’s form was that of a large tiger, sculpted entirely of jade. The plaque beside its stand read “Yu'ling”, and proceeded to explain the deep and symbolical meaning of the name in Chinese.

Markus didn’t really care.

“Finally, a bit of a challenge!” He teleported in behind Ashe, laughing quietly as she jumped in surprise.

Her sword began to crackle with energy and he rolled his eyes. _We got along last time didn’t we, Aesling? Stop being so melodramatic,_ he thought, and then had to resist a snicker as he, of all people, was telling someone to stop being _dramatic_.

The tiger kept its eyes on Ashe, so Markus drew her whip. He flicked it once, twice, to get the spirit’s attention. “Here, kitty kitty.”

“Some day you’re going to arrive so late that the spirit’s already purified,” she grinned, keeping her eyes carefully trained on the tiger.

“And some day soon it’s not gonna matter,” he murmured, low enough he was certain she didn’t hear.

Slowly, Markus stepped to the side, the whip dragging across the floor. The tiger kept its eyes firmly on Ashe, which made it easy for Markus to flick the whip, wrapping it around its neck. Yu’ling turned sharply and followed the whip with its carved eyes, then ran at him - Markus teleported to the opposite side, the whip acting like a leash and stopping Yu’ling dead in it’s sprint. In the seconds it took to reorient itself, Ashe pulled out her sword and swung at it, catching one of it’s front legs and nicking its back leg on the same side.

Yu’ling turned back to Ashe and broke into a full sprint, but was stopped short by the whip once again. Markus conjured up a shadow blast and threw it at the jade tiger’s backside. At the same time, Ashe moved to the side and brought her sword down on the tiger’s back. The tiger snarled, moved aside, and charged again, but this time the shadowy strands of the whip gave out and unraveled from the tiger’s neck.

The tiger pounced. Markus moved quickly, reacting on instinct.

He appeared before Aesling. Yu'ling drove them both to the floor, Ashe’s head slamming hard against the tiles and sword skittering from her grasp, while Markus landed on top of her. One paw pressed down on his shoulder, claws having missed it by a hair, but one back paw pinned his tail and the other’s claws dug hard into his ribs.

It opened its mouth wide in mockery of a roar, rows of carefully carved teeth lining an otherwise nondescript hole. Markus grit his teeth and summoned a shadow blast to hand, just enough movement allowed by his pinned arm to toss it point-blank into the statue’s eyes.

Had the statue been real, it would’ve yelped in confusion as the blast exploded and it leapt back as much as it could, kicking Markus in the ribs further in its panicked rush.

He hissed and vanished in a puff of smoke, reappearing hunched over in the doorway. Markus’ eyes quickly darted around the room - Ashe was out for the count on the museum floor, his side was screaming in agony, and _where the fuck was that stupid rodent?_

_There she is, beside Ashe. She’ll be of no help, except maybe as bait…_

_No, I can handle this by myself._

He narrowly dodged as the tiger charged for him, jumping out of the doorway just as it attempted to sink its jagged fangs into his uninjured side. A new crack ran between its eyes where he’d hit it earlier, glimpsed only briefly as it barreled into the next room.

Markus winced as he leaned back against the wall, his shoulder shuddering for a moment as pain ran through it. It wasn’t bad so much as unexpected - he hurriedly moved over again as the tiger turned around and ran back through the doorway.

It charged headfirst into a pedestal, which rocked precariously before the statue it held slid sideways and off of it.

Markus snagged it out of the air and put it back in its place, eyes narrowing in annoyance. “You’re just lucky I’m not allowed to break anything,” he angrily told the tiger, who seemed to take the statement as a challenge.

What followed was an awkward, stumbling dance; Yu'ling would race forward and snap or swipe at Markus, knocking a vase or a bust off a pedestal, and the Devil Thief would dodge its blow before barely saving the displays from crashing to the ground.

_This feels like all I_ can _do. I’m not in much position to be fighting at the moment._

In one dodge he slid further than usual across the museum tile, almost slamming into a display himself. He took the brief pause as the tiger repositioned itself to tuck Ashe’s whip into his cloak, thin wisps of purple smoke trailing behind it as it disappeared. Markus drew his rapier from the same smoke and took an offensive stance.

“I’ve had enough of this!” He snarled and leapt forward. This time, it was Yu'ling who was forced to dodge, tripping backwards and knocking another statue off its stand.

Markus caught it, barely, with his tail. Rather than place it back, he held the statue in his hand. “You know what? Damn her. If she cares so much about the artwork here she can take it out of my fucking paycheck.” He tossed the statue headlong at the tiger, where it smashed into shards as it was hit square in the muzzle.

The tiger had taken quite a beating by this point - its face was chipped and cracked from barreling into things and Markus’ assault. It did its best to look pitiful and took a careful step back.

“Not today.” Markus appeared in a puff of smoke behind it and put one glowing blue hand across its jagged stripes. He dug his claws hard into its stone hide, grinning as streaks of purple light began to dance along his arm.

The familiar sweetness, never growing dull or unwelcome, filled him. It momentarily overrode the pain and irritation he felt and he had to resist the urge to lick his lips when he finally stepped away from the statue.

Yu’ling no longer stood fierce and proud; instead it crouched, face carved into an expression resembling fear or pain. The cracks that had run across its stripes had grown to encompass them, like gaping wounds from a fiercer predator.

He grinned, though the pain in his side and shoulder returned as the magic and adrenaline each began to wear off. _They’ll put it back in place in the morning. Maybe I can get away with blaming the broken statue on Ashe. Speaking of which…_

He turned around to face his fallen adversary. She lay unconscious on the ground and her arm was wounded, the tiger having landed a single strike, but overall she seemed fine. The pigbat nudged worriedly at her companion, then looked up at Markus when she realized they were being watched.

Her expression wavered between neutrality and uncertainty, and he tried to keep his about the same. With one hand held tightly over the gash in his side - he could feel blood soaking through both his clothing and his fingers - he vanished.

—

The hotel roof was Markus’ favorite place.

He could look out over the entire city, buildings lit like stars across the night sky. All that he could see was a kingdom, and someday…

He sighed.

It was hard to feel anything but tired. He’d patched himself up as best he could, but blood was still seeping through the bandages and onto his shirt.

Inien could’ve helped, sure, but she would ask how it happened and he wasn’t sure he could manage the lie. Markus definitely didn’t want his boss to think he was getting _soft_.

Still, he stared out over the city, humming a dull, quiet tune as if it would mask the pain that remained. _Ashe_ never seemed much worse for wear after their fights - even the point-blank shadow blast had seemed to heal considerably by the time he’d woken up in her body.

“Aesling, Aesling,” he murmured in a low tone, but looked out across the skyline like it would somehow provide answers. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Had it been pity, then, that he’d chosen to protect her from Yu’ling? Was he actually getting soft? Had he broken his number one rule; that he always came first?

It hardly mattered - even if she chose to stand against them, in the end, he knew that she never stood a chance.


	13. Darkness Falls: As the Sun Sets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe is confronted by Hartway, and things take a turn for the worse.

 

There was darkness. Cold darkness, slowly crawling across her skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. She tried to move, to see, to leave, but could find nothing save for inky blackness.

Then, there was the sound of a match, and a flicker of light - the flame grew bright, enough to get a glimpse of the world around her, and there stood Markus, holding out a lantern in one clawed hand. She carefully walked closer, only noticing the strangeness of the situation when she realized that she couldn’t see his eyes.

The light wasn’t warm or comforting, like she expected. It did nothing to scare away the chill, or the strange feeling of something watching her. She looked up at Markus as she neared him, and his smile made her stop in her tracks.

It was wide, almost too wide for his face. His teeth were jagged, crooked, sharp, like they’d been crafted from a broken mirror. He tilted his head forward in an unnatural and stilted manner, acknowledging her, then flicked his tail.

Ashe fell.

She only knew she was falling when Markus was gone, and she hit hard against a floor she couldn’t see, darkness surrounding her once again. There was a silhouette - masked by the darkness, form wavering uncertainly.

It moved, like it was turning, and gave her the same shattered smile.

And then she was, truly, on the floor, knotted in blankets, heart racing and breathing hard from whatever twisted nightmare that had been.

“Ashe! Are you alright? Do you need me to call Kyl'il?” Dont sprang into view as she slowly began to work on untangling herself. It was slow going, her hands stiff as if she’d had them balled into fists for hours.

“Call… why…?” She mumbled in weary response.

“I thought my wards might not’ve worked. Um. Dark energy - especially the amount you’ve been exposed to lately - can do a lot even just to someone’s mind… so I tried putting up a couple wards to keep dark energy from messing with you, hopefully… like causing nightmares. But that one was kinda a guess. Was your dream weird? Like it… felt wrong?”

“No.” Ashe collapsed back into the bed, bringing her blankets with her. She’d given up on fully untangling herself for now. “It just… it was strange. And trying to tell me something.” She craned her head to look at the clock. “It’s 3 am. If I feel weird in the morning, I’ll let you know.” She buried her head in her pillow and yawned. “G'night Dont.”

“Good night, sleep tight…”

The last words came so distantly that Ashe wasn’t sure if she dreamed them or not.

_“…don’t let Melinda bite.”_

—

Ashe wasn’t sure why she didn’t feel the pain when she first awoke from her dream, but the moment the world seemed to finally fall in place around her, it hit her like a truck. When she glanced to her clock, she found it was noon, and groaned.

_Thank the gods it’s a weekend._

She spent another couple of minutes in bed, letting the pain ebb. Eventually, she sat up and untangled herself from her sheets, her nightmare replaying in her head. Dont wiggled her way out from the covers and sat on her pillow.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked.

“Fine, minus the…” she trailed off, gesturing to her head. “Weird thing is, I remember all of it.”

“Huh,” Dont said before shrugging. “Well, today you get the day to rest! We haven’t sensed any corrupted spirits, and Miss Kyl’il will be busy today shifting her focus to watching Markus, in the hope that she can track down his boss through him. Or at least that’s what she said, after I told her about… well, everything that’s happened, lately.”

“You mean get to do homework,” Ashe spat as she shoved away the maelstrom of anger and fear and regret that arose when she considered Markus and their last encounter. Dread was already building in her stomach at the thought of spending the day at her desk, but everyone had gone to the trouble of making copies of their notes for her so far this semester, and the push for midterms would be starting soon, so she knew she should catch up while she had the chance.

She wasn’t completely productive. The final deadline for the contest of that park was next week, and she kept getting distracted changing details on that, or looking up comments about it online to get an idea of others’ strategies. For the most part, though, she was focused, and got through a large chunk of her missing classwork easily enough. Hopefully her teachers would be forgiving over all the extensions she’d needed… and that being a star student last year would pay off in that regard.

Later on in the day, once the sun was mucher lower in the sky and she was spending her time relaxing instead of working, her phone rang. When she saw who it was from, her heart sank a bit and she steeled herself as she accepted the call.

“Hi Gregor,” she said, flinching when her voice wavered slightly.

“Hello, Kelly.” _Fuck_. Everything about his tone screamed professional. None of it seemed like the friendly Gregor she knew and that only seemed to bode poorly.

She sighed, trying to hide her nervousness, as she absentmindedly leaned against her headboard. “What’s up?”

She could barely make out the sound of him rustling papers. “I’ve found something at the museum that you may want to see.”

That made her sit up, probably too quickly as a lightened version of the pain from earlier flooded back to her head. “What? Why would you think I - ”

“I found unharmed surveillance tapes.” Her mouth fell open slightly. ”And I thought you would want to see them.”

Ashe swung both legs off the edge of the bed, ignoring the pounding in her head as she stood up suddenly. “Yes… Yes, I would.” She had to know how much he had access to, and what he was planning on doing with that information. Maybe she could convince him to ignore it - although her hopes were low. Hartway was always painfully attached to the law that he served, even just the playground rules when they were younger.

The small chuckle she could hear on the other side lifted her heart a bit. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll be at my desk down at the station whenever you want to swing by.”

“Okay,” she replied, an uncertain smile on her face. “I’ll be there in a little bit.”

The two hung up and Ashe rushed to get her shoes on. “I’ll be back soon, Dont, I’m going down to the police station.”

The pigbat looked momentarily uneasy, but nodded. “Alright, be careful. I’ll come to you if anything comes up!”

“See you!” Before Dont could finish replying, Ashe was already out the door.

—

By the time she reached the police station, she was sure the people she passed on the street could hear her heart beating. The whole walk, she thought about what could be going through Hartway’s mind. He couldn’t be that mad at her if he was letting her see the tapes. But after last night… waking up on the museum floor to see -

She shook her head slightly and rushed to clear the thoughts from her mind. She nodded politely to a few of the officers that waved hello to her as she entered the station. The man at the front desk didn’t seem too concerned about her, since she had thrown on her uniform - under her usual green jacket - when she left. Surely someone from Varyndir’s wouldn’t cause any trouble, right? Ashe bit back a frantic laugh at the thought, considering her own situation and what had almost happened with Selena.

The walk to Hartway’s office seemed to take longer than it should have, like each step was a sinking into a sea of quick sand, or wet cement. Still, ideas ran through her head at a mile a minute.

_What if he just brought me here to have me arrested? All the cameras were smashed, what’s the likelihood that one survived?_

Biting her lip and digging her nails into her palm, she tried to calm down and get the ‘what ifs’ out of her head. Nothing good would come from working herself up for nothing.

She nearly passed by his room at first, she was so caught up in her own head. The door was ajar and it was empty save for Hartway, who was staring at an open file. She took a deep breath and knocked on the doorframe. He looked up and the mere fact that he didn’t scowl made Ashe relax a bit.

“Hey,” she said, walking in and looking around. Despite the cramped nature of his office, he took obvious joy in it. The chairs weren’t police standard, but comfortable pieces probably picked up from a flea market, and everything was organized. His name plate was near sparkling, proudly showing off the fact that you were talking to “Detective Gregor Hartway”. The file on his desk had multiple newspaper clippings inside, and an old fashioned TV on a wheeled cart sat in the corner. “So, you had something to show me?” _As if I didn’t remember what._

He nodded and ignored the small waver in her voice, pulling a plastic bag out of a drawer. A VCR tape - _What, really? It’s the 21st century!_ \- waited inside of it. “The curator really increased his security, as I’m sure you probably heard.” Ashe said nothing in response, too interested in her shoelaces. Gregor continued, “He stuck some cameras _in_ the walls. This one was high up enough - and hidden enough, it seems - that it was left undamaged.”

He slid the tape into the VCR and pressed play. The screen showed static for a moment before flickering to one of the many galleries of the the museum - and the same room she had been in last night. Her eyes were glued to the screen as he fast-forwarded to the fight. She followed each of their movements carefully, waiting for the moment where she went down. And then -

“Wait!” she said suddenly, apparently ignorant to the detective’s quiet look of surprise. “Pause it.”

Hartway did so, stopping just as Markus began to summon a shadow blast. She looked at him for the first time since he put in the tape, his face once again unreadable. “May I?” she asked, pointing to the remote control. He handed it to her and she immediately rewinded to right before the Devil Thief teleported in front of her. She kept both eyes locked on the screen as Markus appeared before her and they were, together, tackled to the ground, and then watched it a few more times for good measure.

“It doesn’t make sense…” she muttered to herself, letting the tape run a bit longer than usual. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the detective raise his eyebrow at her. She sighed before explaining, “We don’t work together, we fight for the spirit, so I don’t understand why he would save my life like that.” She pointed to the TV.

She looked to Hartway, who was deep in thought, as he glanced back and forth between the tape and Ashe.

“So, this is how you spend your evenings?” He finally asked. “Fighting college students in an empty museum for bizarrely moving pieces of art?”

She shrugged. “It’s not unlike your job. It’s to protect Braeden.”

He raised an eyebrow again. “What could art do to harm the city?”

As if on cue, there was a sharp tapping on the window. The two of them looked up to see Dont, waiting with one hoof still resting against the glass. As Ashe quickly went over to unlatch the window, Hartway stared with wide brown eyes. Dont, ignoring him, loudly exclaimed, “There’s something wrong at the museum! I can’t tell what it is, and something’s blocking Miss Kyl’il, but it’s big. We need to get there, _now!_ ”

Simultaneously, Ashe and Gregor looked to each other.

“I’ve got to go - ”

“I should go - ”

Hartway spoke up first. “You’re not going.”

Ashe was surprised at how angry that made her. “And why not?!”

“You’re still young, you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“I already have been, and for much longer than _you_.”

Hartway sighed, and for an instant he seemed much older than he was. “I only want to protect you.”

“I want to do the same,” Ashe said quietly. She tucked her hands behind her back, trying to hide as they started shaking. The play, and Selena, and Markus taking Yu’ling and that mask from Halloween… All of it weighed on her, more and more, and she did not want Hartway placed into further risk.

The room was nearly silent, the only noises coming from the howling wind outside and the dim flapping of Dont’s wings. The pigbat moved closer to Ashe. “We… we really should get going,” she whispered.

Ashe nodded. “I know.” She took a step closer to the detective, shoulders squared and face set but letting her emotional guards down for a moment. “Would you be happier if we both went?”

Gregor glanced at her. _Kelly’s not a child anymore, she’s not the same little kid that would tag along with Wren,_ he thought, as he often had since bumping into her a few weeks ago. But he wished realizing it again wasn’t in such a dire circumstance. He walked over, slid open another desk drawer, and removed his pistol, holstering it at his side. He looked back to her and nodded.

“Sure. Together.”

—

Markus could see it, for once. Shimmery and hazy, like the waves of a hot day combined with the colors of a puddle in a parking lot. Maybe some would’ve seen it as beautiful, but all he saw in it was restrictions.

He’d felt the barrier before, an ethereal force that pulled at him whenever he entered the Melinda Museum. Sometimes like a light wind, other times like a hurricane, a wall of force that he could barely step through, that fought him every second he was inside, that tried so hard to do anything against him, against the darkness that stirred within him.

Inien, though, placed one hand nonchalantly against the air. Like a drop in a pond, her touch echoed, a thin wall of pink light appearing around it. Soon the entire thing was visible, a translucent dome that enveloped the entire building.

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly and she pushed her hand against the barrier, though it refused to budge, shimmering defiantly. She whispered something, cryptic and quiet, as purple energy twisted out from her hands, a creeping miasma that struggled in the air, each thread wavering wildly as though they stood in a storm.

The threads grew longer, and bigger, split tenfold, and then split again. Hundreds of spiraling strands, each hovering in midair for a moment, before the sorceress gave the smallest nod of her head.

The strands all impacted the barrier at once. Each strike set off a small firework, and all at once brought forth a beautiful cataclysm of light as the shield broke under the barrage of magical force. The shattered shards remained in the air for a moment, but then each dissolved like dust.

Markus had seen Inien do magic before, many, many times - she’d taught him almost all he knew about his Thief abilities. But this… this was a side to her that was so cold and focused it scared him. It was almost petrifying.

He _loved_ it.

She gave the slightest flick of her wrist, and the doors of the museum imploded. Blown clean off their hinges, glass shattering, slamming to the ground in a chorus of destruction.

As she stepped into the museum, her apprentice following closely behind like an obedient puppy, there was a familiar voice that echoed through the empty halls.

The curator looked worn. Dark bags under his eyes, his hair not quite well-kept enough. “What are you - how did -” He managed a few angry, half-confused words before Inien swept her hand to the side. Dan was hurled backward hard by an invisible force, sending him flying into the wall with a heavy _thud_.

—

Approaching the museum was a trial. All of them were in a rush, but Hartway kept glancing at Dont flying beside them. “How haven’t I seen that before?” he asked at one point as they ran.

“Spirit magic is weird,” Ashe said. She’d transformed in an alley a few blocks back, but was pacing herself so that she didn’t outrun Hartway. She didn’t want him getting caught in some kind of trap without her, as much as she also wanted to get to the museum immediately. He seemed content to ignore her change in attire.

“You were possessed by a spirit during the play, so you’re more sensitive to it now. You saw the magic on the recording, right?” Dont explained properly. It seemed to calm her to talk, just a little, her flight leveling out instead of swaying from side to side. She continued without waiting for an answer, “And now that you saw magic happening uninterrupted, even if it was just a recording, you’re more likely to notice more of it. There might also be some feedback from whatever weirdness is going on, but I can’t quite tell.”

“Like I said, it’s weird,” Ashe repeated.

Dont stopped once they stepped foot on the grounds, wailing at something Ashe couldn’t see. “It’s gone!” the pigbat cried out, before covering her ears. “They used all that they stole, and now they’re all screaming - ”

Ashe paused, concern overtaking her for a minute. “Will you be alright?”

Dont took a deep breath, slowly making her way into the air and flying in a small circle around the Thief, much like when she created barriers around spirits. She was shaking when she finished, but still looking at the museum. “I can’t let myself be useless right now, right? This is something Kyl’il’s been teaching me to handle. We need to go, before anything else bad happens.”

Ashe nodded, continuing forward at a run and calling her sword to hand. Something did feel gone - or off? - as she reached the doors, besides the obvious physical destruction. “Markus!” she shouted as she entered. “Show yourself!”

But he wasn’t hiding for once, apparently forgoing his usual sneak attack. “Aesling,” Markus said curtly, with the same infuriating smirk as always. He held both hands behind his back, and beside him stood a familiar figure. Together the duo bore matching, piercing smiles of shark-like teeth. He gestured with one hand to the woman. “I’d like to introduce you to my boss, Inien. I believe you’ve met?”

Heat rose to her cheeks and no doubt assured Markus that, yes, she _did_ remember meeting Inien, though it quickly blossomed into anger when she realized exactly who this woman was and what she’d done - what she’d caused, what she’d started, and that whatever thing she’d spent so long planning was going to happen _right now_ if she had her way.

Only the full moon’s bright light supplied any illumination to the darkened building, and yet the shadows acted strangely around the duo. They flickered and moved out of the corner of Ashe’s eye, seemingly stretching and bending around them as though reaching, only to be repelled by the moonlight’s scathingly cool beams.

A weight settled on her shoulder, and when she glanced aside she saw it was Dont, eyes wide and uncertain, looking hurriedly throughout the room and then between her and Inien.

Inien kept smiling her fiendish smile, reaching back with one hand into the bag that hung at her hip. She pulled out a small, black, leather-bound tome, then rested it comfortably into the crook of her arm.

The words that followed were powerful. Like her own transformation, or Markus’, and yet somehow more. More true, more pure, but in all of the darkest ways.

“ _Enchanting Devil Sorceress, Inien of the Void!_ ”

The book exploded in a shower of darkness. The pages let loose from within it, an unfelt wind blowing them about the room.

The first set of pages all wrapped into a circle around her head. With a spark, they fabricated a wide-brimmed hat.

The next set followed, then the next, forming a jacket, and boots, and gloves, and cape. Each burst into existence as the pages continued their whirling. Gems shone on each of her hands, on her chest, all burning a yellow color that matched her eyes.

Finally, the pages wrapped around her waist, recreating the bag that had been sitting there a moment ago. The last of the pages slid back into the same black tome, which she put back into her bag with ease.

And there stood Inien, the Devil Sorceress, clutching a white dagger, pristine and well-maintained save for the streaks of dark crimson that coated its blade.

“Th - that’s…” Dont hovered backward a pace, uncertainty on her face shifting quickly into fear. “Th - that’s _Inien_. Actual, in the flesh, _Inien the Bloody_ , Ashe!” She dove behind the Spirit Thief, then peeked out over her shoulder. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Her dagger’s got red on it, r - right? There’s nothing, _nothing_ in the _world_ that can stain a spirit-made weapon - except the blood of the spirit that created it.”

Inien tossed the aforementioned blade loosely into the air and caught it, still grinning. Ashe’s grip on her sword tightened. An uneasy silence, an uncertain tenseness, hung in the air for a long instance before Aesling finally moved, darting forward, aiming directly for the Sorceress’ heart.

Somehow, Inien still had the time to stop, sigh, and roll her eyes. She moved a gloved hand, and darkness sprung from her fingertips. The blast made easy contact and sent Ashe flying.

She landed hard against the tiled floor. Hartway looked concerned for only an instant before his expression turned to anger. Tightly gripping his pistol, he fired a single shot.

With the same darkness, the Sorceress coolly flicked her wrist to deflect it.

“Might want to save those bullets,” she smiled, and reached with one hand into her bag. “There’s more to come and you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

When she drew back, in her hand was not her tome, but instead a large blue orb that couldn’t have possibly fit within the space she’d gotten it from. Its glow seemed to twist and bend as she held it, and she turned to deposit it into the Devil Thief’s grasp.

Then, making sure all four of them were watching her, she strode up to the floor medallion in the center of the room. And, with all the calm and composure Markus had come to expect, she slammed the dagger’s blade into the center of it.

It seemed like it wouldn’t do anything for but a moment - as it made contact the medallion began to break, like metal warped from frigid cold and burning heat all at once. If there was an explosion, or even just a reaction, she didn’t feel it. At least, she thought she didn’t, until -

Darkness crashed over her like a wave; Inien tried to contain it, but it was more than she had ever dared to hope could be released. The gems on her outfit cracked, bindings forced to shatter as the energy overwhelmed her. Even her eyes began to break, bindings she didn’t know she had or created as an inevitable result of the strain, and her vision turned from the solid world to that of auras, mostly black with Charoth’s power and a few distant, glowing stars shining from the Spirit Thief and her allies. Far and away, further than she should’ve been able to see but powerful enough to reach her senses, another star pulsed. _It’s too late for anything you might try - I’ve already won._

Slowly, Inien let go of her blade and stood. She wanted to just enjoy this, the promise of power and a knowledge that she could do _anything_ right now. She barely even felt like she needed to stand on her own, that if she let herself try and fall the darkness would just catch her. So much of it drummed through her veins, filled her heart, cloaked her with its wonderful cold, there was no way she could falter.

Something rumbled behind her, and she felt the titanic form of her new pet rising up. Inien smirked, pointed teeth scratching against her lips, then threw her head back and laughed. There was nothing they could do to stop her, not now, and it was all she could ever want.

  



	14. Darkness Falls: In the Shadow of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything terrible happens at once and Ashe formulates a plan.

 

Inien still gripped the dagger tightly, its blade having disappeared deep into the floor - jagged cracks started to spread out across the medallion’s surface. Ashe, for the first time, both saw and understood the symbols for what they truly were.

Waves, encircling what had first seemed like a flower, but she could now see were fins, and the shape she had once thought to be a moon was instead a great, closed eye. The dagger’s hilt still peaked out of the medallion, thin purple streaks beginning to grow up and around it. They pulsed with power, something building and stretching out into the air.

All at once the released energy enveloped the sorceress, clouding around and hiding her from view with a wave of glittering darkness. It seemed to be weighed down from age, like dust, having a hard time congealing together as it gradually spread out into the air. Stray wisps began to move upwards in a bizarre imitation of dancing flame.

As it finally dispersed, Aesling could see Inien again, though what she saw worried her to the point of instinctive, visceral fear. The whites of her eyes were stained black, and blood rolled down her cheeks like tears. As the moonlight struck Inien and Markus it seemed to flicker and die, as though even it did not want to see what lurked there. Black claws stretched out from her fingertips, and veins pulsing with magic crawled along her ashen skin, like it had when she’d removed Markus’ mask to reveal the face beneath.

The room was quiet, almost too quiet, until the floor began to rumble. Ashe could see exhibits shaking, ceramic teetering on their pedestals, paintings wavering uncertainly on the wall, but couldn’t hear it, and the moving earth itself caused no sound.

No, the only thing she could hear was a great roar, and a sharp crack as the tiled floor began to split. A pair of glowing red eyes peered through the darkness, then another, and another. The roar grew louder, angry - the great spirit ripped through the ground, serpent-like form gradually rising as it turned to face them, Inien’s shattered smile somehow growing even wider.

And she began to laugh.

Her new “pet”, ascending behind her, regarded them blankly. Two jaws hung open as it bellowed. It was bizarrely shrimp-like, whiskers spiraling out behind it, fins a vibrant red, carapace a deep violet, stomach coated in a mixture of both.

“Charoth,” Inien breathed, staring at the beast for a lingering moment.

She kneeled and, with a swift tug, drew the embedded dagger from the floor. The blade had shattered from the sheer force of the impact, and the pristine ivory of the hilt was now dyed a deep obsidian. Inien tightened her grip, causing a spark to light the edge - a new blade grew of blazing, murky blackness, small spots of red flickering within.

She tossed it into the air and caught it again, keeping her eyes trained on Ashe, an unnatural hunger growing within them. “Death and destruction time,” she hissed, before disappearing in a plume of shadows.

The great beast - Charoth - roared, and the entire building shook as though it, too, was fearful.

“Ashe!” Dont screamed.

She blinked, the sound of her name just enough to pull her out of her stupor. She dodged to one side as Charoth swung its tail at the three of them. Dont flew up high as Gregor hit the floor, landing hard on his hands and knees. Its tail crashed into some pedestals bearing sculptures and smashed partway into a wall, tearing through paintings and tapestries. As the creature struggled to remove its tail from the wall, the detective got back to his feet.

“What the hell is that?” Hartway exclaimed as he unholstered his gun and aimed it at the giant shrimp.

“I have no idea,” Ashe said quietly, fear once more overtaking her for a moment before she gritted her teeth. “But we need to get rid of it.”

The detective’s eyes widened as he sized up the creature. He aimed his gun higher, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger. The bullet landed squarely in one of its eyes. The creature shrieked and thrashed around, causing even Markus to take a couple steps aside. Hartway kept his pistol trained on it while it was confused and hurt, but with the entire thing writhing around in the limited space, it was hard to aim properly.

Ashe dodged its thrashing, trusting instinct to keep her safe rather than risk overthinking her movements. She tightened her grip on her sword as she leapt over the tail and swung at it wildly. The blade bit into it a couple times as she moved, though she wasn’t sure that the scratches it left even pierced Charoth’s hide.

She shifted her weight forward and prepared to strike again when the air around her suddenly grew warm, Charoth staring at her, both mouths open wide to show her the darkness inside. She dove out of the way toward Hartway, instincts continuing to guide her; not even a moment later the place where she’d been standing was engulfed in black fire, thin streaks of crawling purple and twisting red mixed within it. The hairs on the back of her next stood on end at the sudden sound of crackling flame. Ashe moved aside, expecting the fire to spread out across the museum’s floor, but instead it flickered for a few seconds more before finally dissipating.

Hartway stared at the spot for a long moment before quietly asking, “What was that?” His voice shook ever so slightly, though he still stood firm.

Ashe shrugged. “Again, I don’t know and I _really_ don’t want to be on the receiving end of it.” She started to sprint back to where she had been, moving diagonally to get closer to the creature. “Just keep shooting and run if the air gets warm around you!” she shouted over another of the spirit’s beastial roars.

Hartway nodded, lifting his gun again and unloading the rest of the clip into Charoth’s body. The creature didn’t have as great of a reaction to the bullets in his body as it did to the one in his eye - like they were no more than mosquito bites. It raised its tail back into the air. Hartway ducked behind a destroyed piece of the wall, trying to get some cover, but the spirit’s eyes tracked him and he felt the air quickly becoming blistering hot.

He had no choice, even though it would put him in harm’s way again. Hartway dived back into the open, into the way of Charoth’s body as it raised its tail even higher.

“No!” Dont shrieked, watching it all unfold. Ashe would be devastated if anything happened to the detective! She dove down from her spot near the roof, circling as narrowly as she could around Gregor and pouring as much power as she dared into her barrier.

The lower part of Charoth’s body slammed into them. It hit Dont’s shield, and cracks appeared in the air around them. Instead of crushing them, the pressure struck at an angle and they went flying like a baseball, held together by the barrier.

Ashe screamed in anger, and let one of her bindings fall away.

Dont and Hartway landed in a side gallery, the barrier dissipating on impact and both of them sliding along the floor for a few feet. The detective sat up quickly, looking around. Weapons of every age and alloy waited in cases and hung on walls, though he doubted anything would be very effective against that abomination. He stood up and reloaded his gun. No use going back in there empty-handed. “Thank you,” he said absently, glancing about for the pigbat.

She was on her feet as well, but was staring at the exhibit, her focus switching quickly, from blade to bow to spear to everything else. “There’s something here - I can hear it, like the ocean - don’t go back out!”

Hartway glanced around nervously. “What is it?” Even as he asked, his eyes were drawn to a certain item, something about it making it seem more vivid than its neighbors, as if it was trying to stand out. It was a long, curved blade on a wooden handle, engraved lines like waves running down the metal. “That?”

Dont perked up, following his gaze and flying up to read the plaque. “The Glaive of the Waves! It has a good spirit in it, it wants to help!”

Hartway swallowed nervously. He would rather have something he was used to - or even knew how to use - but his gun had barely done anything to Charoth and he only had so many bullets left. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

Another roar shook the building around them, and he swore he could hear Ashe shouting something. There was no time to think about it when there were lives at stake. Hartway reached for the glaive and as his hands wrapped around its hilt he felt instantly reassured. It was heavy, but something in it reacted to his touch and seemed to settle to better fit his balance. He tightened his grip, still wielding the weapon slightly awkwardly, but rushed back into the lobby anyways.

Charoth had coiled in a wide circle around Ashe now, though it seemed to be holding back. Instead, the Spirit Thief faced Inien, who stood there with a cold smile on her face. Ashe lunged forward with her sword, only for Inien to disperse into shadows and reform behind her. The witch brought her own blade down. Ashe turned quickly and barely caught it inches from landing a blow.

The edge of Ashe’s sword flickered, lightning arcing away from it, the bolts aiming for Inien. They struck hard against shimmering sigils in the air and dissolved, the Sorceress waiting patiently, grin still wide on her face.

Dont actually grunted in anger. “Inien’s toying with her, if Ashe isn’t careful she’ll be worn down until she can’t fight anymore, and then…”

“Got it,” Hartway said, again adjusting his grip. Whatever energy dwelled in the glaive seemed to be helping him, nudging him towards the correct movements. _First things first - give Kelly an out._ He ran forward, raised his new weapon, and brought it down on Charoth’s side. It actually sank into the dark spirit’s flesh, drawing blood.

It roared, this time in pain instead of anger, straightening out a little before twisting to focus all six eyes on the detective. He withdrew as the air around him grew hot again, barely avoiding yet another blast of fire.

Ashe took her chance and scrambled away, trying to get some room for herself. Her heart was racing, her thoughts wild - between the dark spirit looming over her and Inien seeming to predict her every attack, she was at her limits.

Inien whirled to face Hartway, her eyes narrowing. Instead of going for him, she merely looked up at her pet. “Finish them, no matter what,” she ordered, before disappearing once more.

Charoth’s three pairs of eyes focused in different places: one where Inien had been, one on the being that had hurt it, and one on its prey. It seemed to be considering something, and Hartway took the chance to stab it again. With that burst of pain, it returned to monstrous and instinctive power, lashing out at them with a renewed anger.

—

Markus held the strange object he’d been given with both hands, a peculiar blue orb that seemed to pulse with light every other beat. He waited, uncertain, though a fanged smile still spread across his face. It was working! They’d gotten this far and their plan was actually _working!_

He almost expected the fight to come to him at any moment, but it seemed Ashe, the detective, and the pigbat were too distracted by the raging shrimp - _Seriously, why a jumbo shrimp?_ \- to pay him much heed, and Inien had disappeared. Wasn’t there another part to this plan? He couldn’t remember. He was supposed to hold the orb, so he would. If this went south and it was his fault… Markus didn’t want to _think_ about what Inien might do.

He heard a quiet spell behind him, and momentarily felt the air fill with darkness. Something struck him in the back, hard and painful. Still gripping the orb, he landed backward on the tiled floor. There was a sharp tug on his hair, pulling his head up and thrusting him into a sitting position. He could feel the sharp, burning cold of the dagger’s blade, like teeth biting for his throat. Inien whispered in his ear. “I really am sorry about this,” insincerity plain from the smile he could hear in her voice. “But, clearly, you were wavering.”

That was it. Charoth would only obey those with a sacrifice for him - death for the death god. Ashe was originally going to serve that purpose, but Markus guessed she’d proved too… _feisty_ for the Sorceress to handle.

Lead seemed to weigh down his bones, though he couldn’t tell if it was Inien’s magic or his own fear that caused it. The moment seemed to last forever as he waited for her to cut through his throat, to enact the final part of her plan, to leave him to bleed out on the museum floor.

The sudden whirl of air and a heavy _thud_ cut through the everlasting wait. He saw a flash of black and white, the only distinguishable feature against it a single silver bracelet.

Inien stumbled over, nearly dropping her dagger as her expression twisted into one of fury. Dan grinned smugly for an instant as the Sorceress moved to stand back on her feet.

Markus dropped the orb. It took a moment for him to realize that the sting he felt was not a remnant of the now-corrupted knife against his throat - it was the sting of _betrayal_.

He turned himself over, now unsteadily balanced on his hands and knees. _I was wavering, was I?_

He grit his teeth and tightened one hand into a fist as the curator attempted to deliver a second punch, Inien dodging it with relative ease and using a burst of dark energy to send him sprawling. It wasn’t enough, clearly, as he got back onto his feet almost immediately to begin another blow.

Even though her attention was on the curator, Markus held one hand out to her, in what might’ve looked momentarily like a plea for help. He was thinking, though, remembering. The spell he’d studied. A last resort for if they couldn’t handle Charoth, to salvage the magic they’d spent on the summoning. Dark wisps flickered around him, and he narrowed his eyes.

He whispered a single, burning word.

**_“Iconoclasm.”_ **

The curator’s next punch missed, striking only through air as Inien fell to the ground. She buried her head in her hands, dagger clattering to the floor, teeth clenched together and in too much pain to even scream.

The Thief watched in silent awe as her magic began to tear itself apart.

Her outfit flickered and fell away as if it had been turned to dust, replaced by the simple garb she’d worn upon first entering the museum. The veins along her skin peeled off, her claws broke and crumbled. Blood-red streaks upon her face faded to normal tears and her eyes changed back to simple amber and white. Slowly, dark energy traveled along her body, leaving what had once been “normal” in its wake.

Where there had once been a corrupted sorceress was now a girl, a child even, with long dark hair and tanned skin, collapsed on the ground with her eyes closed, as though she had simply fallen asleep.

Markus, meanwhile, had expected to feel Inien’s magic rushing into him, dancing around him in the same way the stray dark energy had been around her. Yet he found that it was only there for a moment - the sweetest taste of it, before it was replaced with an angry, gnawing hunger. He saw his claws flicker, briefly, and was filled with the slightest empty feeling in his chest.

Whatever Iconoclasm had done to Inien, it had done some of it to him, as well.

His first, bitter thought, as the dark magic dissipated around him, was simple. _She lied._

—

_We can’t keep this up._

The thought kept running through Ashe’s head, much as she tried to ignore it. It was getting harder to manage - her own attacks did nothing to Charoth, Dont wasn’t made for battle, and Hartway was only human. He was starting to slow, just a little, but it was inevitable that he’d falter at some point.

_It’s just a dark spirit. I should be able to do something, dammit!_

She misjudged a dodge, leaping over one section of Charoth only for its tail to hit her as it swung back. It pinned her against a wall, but didn’t seem to notice, too focused on the dancing prey on the other side of the room

_A dark… spirit._

Ashe looked at the spirit’s scaly hide for a long moment, before hesitantly placing her hand on it. It was too distracted with the detective to pay her much heed, and as she stopped to think, the simplest idea began to form.

“It’s a dark spirit,” she repeated simply. Green light began to crackle at her fingertips. She found that, beneath its skin… it felt like nothing _but_ dark energy. Its body was just a shell, holding back a filled dam of corrupted magic, ready to spill out at a moment’s notice.

It tried to hit Hartway with its tail again. Ashe dropped down and landed on her feet, a curious frown on her face.

Aesling took a couple steps back. She winced at the ringing of cracks that signified the further shattering of the floor and the muffled shout from Hartway that followed. A few slow, steady breaths, and she held her hands up together in front of her. Some part of her knew she would only have one chance at this.

“Ashe?” There was a whisper behind her and the light flapping of wings. “Are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?”

The pigbat took her grim look of determination as a resounding “yes”. The Thief moved one leg back to further keep her balance, and tilted her head forward slightly as she slowly started to concentrate.

The light sparked and danced down her arms, and she finally closed her eyes in an effort to keep focused. She wasn’t sure if what she was about to do - what she was _trying_ to do - was at all possible, but if there was a chance, _any_ chance…

Ashe blocked out the sounds of combat; dark magic flying from fingertips, exclamations of pain or surprise, another monstrous roar from the great spirit. She concentrated, feeling deep within herself for her own magic, and then for any and all else she could find. Charoth seemed to fill the room while manifesting as a tempest, whirling and chaotic.

Normally, she could purify a spirit within whatever it possessed, but this was a pure being of corruption. It threatened to overtake her as she started to draw on it, bringing forth even the thinnest line of energy, before she could find her bearings amidst the darkness of the maelstrom. It spilled forth like a wound, and however she tried to push back, it would not stop bleeding. Slowly she wrested free purified tendrils of energy and, for lack of anywhere else to put them, pulled them forward into herself.

Her remaining armlets fell away one by one, although if she removed them herself or Dont did she couldn’t tell. The room grew sharp with sound, and even the thinnest breath echoed tenfold before she blocked it out. Then something peeked out of her back - _wings?_ \- and she felt the ground dissipate beneath her. Was she lost in the energy? Was she floating, flying, or simply gone?

There was something else behind her momentarily, the same strangeness of whatever it was the magic was doing and Ashe distantly realized that she’d never removed more than two bindings before. Why hadn’t she? Couldn’t it have helped her beat Markus? Even as she considered it, she wasn’t so sure; if she wasn’t focused on such an overwhelming being anyways, it might’ve sent her into sensory overload.

…If that was a _tail_ , though, like it seemed to be, she was going to have a few strong words with Dont after this.

The eerie silence continued, hanging hard in the air as Ashe felt a sudden _crack_. She would’ve reached for her choker if she could, but as it stood, she was too focused on keeping the overwhelming energy - both dark and light - from bursting out of her grasp and escaping. There was another _crack_ and the familiar coldness disappeared. The choker dropped to the floor with a loud _clink_ , and it was there that the changes began.

Her bat wings, ears and tail all vanished at once, returning her to her more or less “normal” form, if only for an instant. Her golden eyes, opened at some point but sight unnoticed, began to glow. Her teeth grit tight. The room was filled with a sudden weight, like the air before a storm.

There was no place to put it. She’d planned on siphoning the energy off, giving it one at the time to the beings in the room that she could trust - which, by this point, was almost all of them save Inien. And yet even with all her bindings off, even with her full power reserves unleashed, she simply couldn’t contain the sheer amount of purified energy that she was creating.

For an instance, her eyes locked with Charoth’s. Brightly burning gold on three pairs of brilliant red.

There was a sudden crack of thunder, and a flash, and the world seemed to be enveloped by fire.

She could feel the energy as it poured out of her, where it went and where she put it, even as her vision was replaced by nothing but whiteness. There was little she could do about the dam bursting other than make sure it didn’t go to waste, that it didn’t dissipate into thin air like Inien’s magic had. She had no clue what would happen if it did.

All at once, the blinding light died and she was faced with the museum again, somehow now filled with light and yet devoid of it at the same time. She felt her feet make contact with the floor, sharp and uneven from where it had been broken. Wearily, Aesling scanned the room, eyes so dulled that their usual glow, however faint, had dissipated. Her gaze caught on Inien, and she took a single, shaky step forward as her eyes slowly closed. “Too… much…” was all she managed before she collapsed across the tiles.

Markus waited for a few long moments. He gave a heavy sigh, still lightheaded and world spinning slightly from the sheer amount of power that had been at his fingertips - it left a strange feeling in his chest, and he imagined the effect it had was something like oil and water, even with the energy that had been drained from casting his earlier spell.

He lifted his head, and watched Ashe for a second to ensure that she was, in fact, still breathing. He turned and looked at everything else - Hartway lay on the floor in a heap, blood staining the front and side of his uniform and his leg twisted at an odd angle. The pigbat was rubbing her head and looked dazed. The curator stood before the strange creature that had once been the raging spirit - he assumed, at least, as it now seemed much smaller and looked drastically different - and appeared to be… conversing with it? _Did I miss something somewhere…?_

He looked between Ashe and Inien, thinking of what Ashe had said before she’d fainted. Surprisingly, he could keep his balance while standing, if barely. He managed the few short steps it took to reach them, then half-collapsed, half-knelt down beside the two girls, grim determination clear on his face. There was a sudden yelp as the detective spoke up from his spot on the floor behind him. “Wait, what’re you doing?”

It only took a moment of silence to devolve into pleading for him to stop, not to do this, to make the right choice, even through the agony he was likely experiencing of several broken bones at the very least from Charoth’s wild thrashing.

Markus held one hand over Inien’s forehead and the other over Aesling’s trinket, closing his eyes to concentrate and drown out the shouting, much like the other Thief had done minutes ago.

A milky white stream of magic began to pass from one hand to the next, growing ever so slightly thinner as he let the excess of energy pass back into Ashe. It was painful, the energy reacting to the corrupted energy in his own body, but at the same time… it was familiar, energizing, enlivening. He’d felt it before, as Ashe, and knew it was the only thing that could help now.

After what felt like a minute or two, as the pain started to ebb, Markus opened his eyes. The remainder of the energy had stopped flowing to Ashe. Instead, it simply drained from Inien into his own open palm. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? She was almost empty already. Just taking the last few drops -

With a jolt, he shook his hand away. The magic still hanging in the air twisted back into Inien, a few stray flecks from his hand following. “I am not a murderer,” he hissed at her unconscious form. “And I’m certainly not sinking to _your_ level. Not anymore.”

Ashe’s trinket flashed dimly with the same murky white magic before her own Thief outfit dissipated, replaced by her casual clothes. Markus shuffled back and looked at her with uncertainty as she groaned, not quite trusting his legs to remain steady if he tried to stand. The pigbat came awkwardly half-hopping over - while energized from the influx of energy, it seemed she wasn’t quite in the state to be flying just yet.

“Ashe!” She bounced excitedly. “That was _amazing!_ I mean, I gave you your powers and all and even I didn’t know you had it in you!” She paused. “Maybe… Wait, no. You must just have a really good natural energy proficiency, like, wow!”

“Th - thanks.” Ashe managed a weak smile. She was unable to do little more than that and groaned tiredly.

Dont’s ears perked up, seemingly listening to something that no one else could hear. “She’s coming! Hang on!” The pigbat leapt into the air, still moving shakily and began to fly as fast as she could manage in a wide vertical circle. It was stilted and awkward, though she slowly fell into a rhythm. Fog trailed from her wingtips, and clumped into thick clouds as she did so. A dozen or so rotations later, the clouds started to gather into a simple ring that floated lazily in the air.

The pigbat landed proudly next to the ring, then tilted almost sideways and caught herself with a hoof. A spark lit the center of the ring, spiraling out like a tornado to envelope the entirety of the inside and turning it the same misty bluish-white as the clouds. It shimmered and shook as a familiar figure stepped through.

“Impressive work on the gate, young Dont.” Kyl'il nodded her encouragement to her apprentice (who beamed brightly) before casting her gaze upon the rest of the room.

Her expression didn’t waver, eyes passing over the Devil Thief and detective, the fallen form of Inien and shrunken being that was Charoth, but it seemed to Ashe like it took a lot to keep it that way. It was only when she caught sight of the curator that she finally smiled.

The spirit took a few steps closer to Dan, glancing momentarily at the smaller creature standing beside him. “It’s good to see you, patient Thog.”

“I could say the same. Took you long enough to show up, Kyl'il - ”

"Wait, what?” Ashe couldn’t help but interrupt, ignoring the look of surprise Dont gave her as she did so. She struggled to sit up, to get a better view of things. “How do you two know each other? Who the fuck is Thog?”

“Yeah,” chimed in an exhausted Hartway from the nearby floor. “You’re ‘just Dan’, aren’t you?” He blinked wearily. “Unless you were lying through the whole investigation, but after that incident with the security cameras…”

Dan - Thog - the curator - whoever it was, suppressed a deeper frown, then turned to Ashe and, to her surprise, bowed. It was slight and stiff, but she could still recognize the action for what it was. He seemed uncertain as he spoke next, rather than presenting the usual hostility she had come to expect, _especially_ towards the Thieves. “I’m… I suppose I’m not entirely a spirit any more, but I used to be. My name is both Thog and Dan. Thog the spirit has served with the curators of this museum for a few centuries now. Dan the human is maybe slightly older than he looks.”

He considered his own words for a moment, then continued. “It’s been my job to watch over the Melinda Museum for a while. Had things gone well I was supposed to meet with you, Aesling, shortly after you would be picked as Braeden’s next Guardian. The _witch_ , however,” he glanced over at their adversary’s unconscious form, “had other plans.”

“It is for similar reasons that I could not arrive the moment trouble started.” Kyl’il added. “Whatever tempted Inien did kept me trapped on Kinir until several minutes ago, which is when I assume you defeated her - she was also careful to cut the power in the museum so I could not see that which occurred within. There was no easy way to get here quickly, so I obtained the assistance of young Dont.”

Dont looked incredibly proud of herself, leaping up onto Kyl’il’s shoulder and perching on it in a way that almost resembled a parrot. Kyl’il’s mouth twitched into a smile, just for a second.

“So, what, she wiped your memories?” Ashe raised an eyebrow at the curator. The wear and tear of the fight was finally starting to catch up to her, and she settled back on the floor. She removed her jacket and set it beneath her like a pillow, kicking up a thin layer of debris and dust as she did so.

“She wiped _Thog’s_ memories,” he corrected. “And we’d coexisted awhile before that, so things didn’t really change much. But the shock of seeing Inien - and becoming exposed to both her and your magic again - kickstarted a kind of… _instinctive_ magical reaction.“

"And now you are one.” Kyl'il remarked calmly.

He nodded, examining the remains of the demolished room with a sharp, practiced gaze. “Call me whatever the fuck you want, it doesn’t really matter. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a hell of a mess to clean up. Where do I keep the damn insurance forms…?” He wandered away.

Markus, having slowly managed his way over as his strength returned to him, knelt down by the detective. Hartway eyed him warily, but allowed the Devil Thief to help him get back to his feet, wincing in pain as he did so.

“I’ll have some kind of story to make up for the guys back at the station.” Hartway looked between the duo of Thieves. “I’ll keep whatever kind of weird secret this is. They’d hardly believe me, however true the story I told was.”

“Thanks, Gregor.” Ashe shot him a tired, earnest smile.

“No problem, Re - Kel - I don’t even know what I’m supposed to call you.” He glanced at Markus, then Inien. “There should be a couple wheelchairs in one of the back rooms. Both of us need to go to the hospital.”

“Can’t go like this, can I?” Markus mumbled moments before a twisting pillar of glowing purple enveloped him. When it faded, he too was “normal” again, horns and tail and bizarre outfit having disappeared. He flinched. “Ow. Ow. Okay, and maybe grab some aspirin for me, my head hurts like hell. Ow.”

“That’s what magic does!” Dont chirped, a little too satisfied at Markus’ pain, and fluttered back over to Ashe. “You going to be alright, Ashe?”

She sat up more, maneuvering her legs so they were beneath her and she was kneeling. “Yeah, I’ll be fine once the ringing in my ears stops.”

The creature that had once been the raging shrimp, now a tiny black being with a strange white mask and cape, approached her. It gripped a long stick in its hands, which sparked at the end with wispy greenish energy.

Moving slowly, it poked her with the stick.

“Uh, hi.” It continued to stare blankly at her, or she assumed it did, behind the mask. It tilted its head slightly forward.

“Charoth says hi.” Dont offered. “I think it can tell what you’re saying, but it only knows how to speak in essences - like how baby spirits do.” She looked down and, speaking in a hushed tone torn between sadness and silence, added, “It was locked away for a very, very long time.”

Ashe raised one hand and, when the spirit made no hostile action and the pigbat voiced no concern, gently placed it on its head and patted it. Charoth moved slightly closer, and she smiled.

“What’s gonna happen to Charoth now?” She hugged the small creature. It did not seem upset by this turn of events.

Dont looked as if she were going to say something for a moment, but instead joined the duo, tucking herself under Ashe’s arm. The girl’s shoulders shook for a moment and she leaned further forward, hiccuping slightly as her breath caught hard and a few tears landed on the broken tile. Others began to slowly stream down her face.

“Bright Aesling is going into spirit-induced shock,” Kyl’il remarked calmly. At Hartway’s sudden look of worry, she clarified. “She should be fine, it will just take a bit of rest to recover. She filled and then emptied her entire magic reserves, and the fact she’s still awake right now is more than impressive besides.” Her gaze moved to Markus, and a smile flickered at the edge of her mouth. “Though she had some help.”

With a muffled curse, Thog returned, awkwardly pushing two wheelchairs along with one of the handles in each hand. As they jammed against the dented floor they got stuck, and he fumbled to get them back in good enough state to keep rolling. “It’s fine, sir.” Hartway called across the gallery floor. “We can make it over there.”

Thog shrugged, sighed, and left the gallery once more. The detective looked at Markus, then Inien. “If you help me over there, I can probably - ow - lift her.”

“Good, because I can’t. Which side do you want me on?”

As the two spent a moment maneuvering themselves, Kyl’il raised her staff and the light it cast seemed to glow brighter. “I can move her for you if you prefer, faithful Gregor, burning Markus?”

Markus eyed the spirit suspiciously, but quietly gave his own nod after Hartway did the same.

The flame jumped from her staff and dissipated. A moment later a pale red light surrounded Inien’s prone form, shimmering and flickering like the flame had. Gently the former Sorceress rose from the ground and travelled the length of the room before being carefully deposited into one of the wheelchairs. She didn’t move, save for the slightest rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“What, did you levitate her with _fire?_ ”

Kyl’il looked at Markus. “I suppose you could say that. I take it you do not trust me?”

Dont seemed startled by the question. Markus’ brow furrowed and he frowned. “No, not particularly.” The light spirit nodded, her expression untroubled and unchanging.

The same glow encompassed the duo, and though the suspicion on Markus’ face did not waver, neither did he protest. As Hartway was guided forward, each step seemed to cover twice the intended distance, and they almost glided over spots in the floor that would’ve normally no doubt caused them to stumble.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay, Ashe? Er, Kelly?” Dont nudged her worriedly as she still clung tightly to the pair of spirits.

“You can call me Ashe. I’m used to it by now.” Her eyes peeked open and, though her vision was still mostly obscured by tears, she looked around the room. Her gaze went from the duo of Markus and Hartway as the detective was helped into the second wheelchair; to Kyl’il, who was still grinning slyly as she looked on; to Thog, crouched over a decimated pile of rubble and holding a clipboard, apparently taking notes; and finally back to Dont and Charoth, whose fur and hair she ruffled respectively before wiping away some of the wetness on her cheeks. “And yeah. I think… I think I’ll be just fine.”


End file.
